Rise Of Titan
by ZFighter18
Summary: Giving superpowers to a teenage boy is like giving an automatic rifle to a toddler. It usually never ends well for anyone involved. (Worm AU/OC, Greg Veder)
1. Prelude 1

Prelude: Falling Skies

 **Mitchell Pratt**

My name's Mitchell. Mitchell Pratt. I'm 14 years old, half black and half Korean, and I am currently stuck in a lumpy bed when I should be enjoying my vacation Down Under. To uderstand exactly why, I'm gonna have to go back.

Like, two days back.

See, my parents had taken me to a fancy restaurant that I really didn't feel like going to. I mean, why would I want to go to a restaurant where I couldn't pronounce half the stuff on the menu. Seriously, why couldn't we go to a steakhouse. We were already in the Outback.

Anyway, my mother, a tiny Korean woman, was on my back about my weight...again. My dad, as usual, didn't have much to say on the topic. See, the thing is I know I'm fat. Everyone knows I'm fat. It's pretty obvious to tell when you're fourteen years old, pretty short and two hundred and twenty pounds. I just wish she wouldn't bring it up all the time.

In her motherly wisdom, she decided that I couldn't order a steak or burger. Instead, she ordered me a Grilled Triggerfish, whatever that is.

Anyway, the good thing was that the fish came with a side of potato salad and, all in all, tasted pretty good.

The bad thing was...well...food poisoning.

As I lay in bed, staring at how the patterns on the ceiling spun through my delirious eyes, I noticed a loud crashing and a scream that sounded oddly like my mother's. When the scream stopped, I heard my parents yelling at each other. Despite my best efforts, I really couldn't make out what they were saying so I made an effort to go back to sleep.

To my surprise, my father burst through my door a few minutes later, a duffel bag in one hand. "Mitch, get up! We have to go now!"

"Mmmwaah?" was my reply. Eh, you try to be eloquent when half-asleep and sick.

My father was not a very physical man. Standing at 5'10, he weighed a little over two hundred pounds. He didn't lift weights. He didn't play basketball. He didn't even jog.

The man was an actuary, a profession I could seriously say was one of the most boring in the world. The only sort of physical exercise he did was play golf every Sunday, if you could call golf exercise. Due to his lack of physical conditioning, I was surprised when he lifted me out of bed, threw me over his shoulder and ran through the house with an unnatural vigor.

Despite my delirium, I noticed a very, very loud sound that seemed oddly familiar. A whining noise, like you might hear from a particularly large baby preparing to scream. The nasal 'waaaaa' sound stretched out, so loud it was painful to listen to. Despite how familiar it was, I just couldn't remember where I knew it from. My father kicked open the door of the vacation home and ran out towards the van he had also rented.

He jumped in and tossed me in the backseat with a mumbled "Sorry, son", all the while screaming at my mother to drive. My mother pulled out of our rented beach house so quickly that I was beginning to wonder if I had suddenly been transplanted into an action movie. I blinked and stared back at the house we had spent the last week in, the front door still wide open

"Dad?" I groaned out.

I looked up at my father and flinched as I saw the expression on his face. He was breathing heavily as sweatdrops ran in rivulets down his face, his head constantly jerking around. It was as if he wanted to look out every window at once.

He turned around and looked down at where I lay on the backseat. I flinched again as I looked directly at him. Like seriously, I was sick and I was pretty sure I looked better than he did right now. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he was tearing up a little.

No...no way, that's probably my imagination. Dad's not emotional like that.

"Son...," he looked at me, waiting for me to begin.

I coughed once or twice, in an attempt to clear my throat. "Dad, what..." I paused as I heard what was undoubtedly my mother crying, "Where are we going? What's happening? Why's mom crying?"

My father's face twisted up. "We're heading to the Endbringer Shelter, Mitch. Canberra's being hit."

I froze. That whining sound. Air raid sirens.

How didn't I notice it before? The Endbringer alarm.

This was bad. This was worse than bad.

Wait a minute...

"Which is it? Which one?" I asked as I forced myself to sit up, stomach turning from the small movement.

My father shook his head nervously but tried to flash me a smile. It was not reassuring. "We don't know. The news just told us what to do and where the shelter was. It didn't tell us which one was attacking."

I opened my mouth to ask another question when the minivan suddenly jerked and we skidded to a stop.

"Owww."

"Holy..."

I quieted my complaints as I heard my mom's voice.

My dad leaned forward from the middle seats until his head was right next to my mother's.

I heard him gasp as well.

"What? What is it?"

They didn't answer me.

"Fine, I'll look myself." I adjusted the seat in front of me until it was low enough for me to crawl over, my impatience and curiousity allowing me to power through the nausea.

I finally reached the front and stuck my head through the two front seats.

My jaw dropped to match my parents.

In front of us were thousands of cars, all stuck in what looked like the mother of all traffic jams.

"Crap. This thing's gotta stretch for miles. How are we gonna get past this?" Other people seemed to be having the same thoughts I did as I saw people pouring out of their cars and running in the direction we had just come from.

My dad wasted no time. "Okay...we have to go. They wouldn't be running this way if there wasn't a reason for it. We get out and we run. Ran, hold Mitch's hand and I'll grab yours. We can't afford to lose each other in this...insanity outside."

He paused, took a deep breath and continued. "I'll grab the bags."

My mom nodded and turned to me. "Mitchie, honey, are you good to run or do you need help?" The concern and caring in her voice was evident in every word she said. I normally found it embarrassing but in this situation, it gave me an odd feeling of strength and comfort.

I nodded. "I'm fine on my own. I'm definitely good."

My dad glanced at me sharply. "Are you sure? I can carry you if you need it."

 _Carry me? Please, I'm not a baby_ , was what I wanted to say. Instead, I grimaced and shook my head.

My dad nodded and jumped out of the van, my mom and I right behind him. We began to run as soon as our feet touched the ground. The crowd jostled us and knocked us around, definitely not helping my nausea. My mom's hand grabbed mine in a vice grip as I stumbled and she gave me a reassuring smile.

Looking at the mayhem around me, I felt myself getting sicker and my headache getting worse. People were being trampled underfoot due to not being quick enough, a few others had turned their cars around and were simply mowing down those too slow to get out of the way. Children were crying...no, not just children. Women, hell, grown men were openly crying. They just didn't want to die.

Too bad the monsters, Endbringers, didn't give a shit what they wanted. They had decided that today was our day and whether it was by water, heat, or mind control, a lot of people would die.

I noticed my mother glance at me out of the corner of my eye.

 _This has to be hitting her hard,_ I thought to myself. _This vacation was her idea. Hell, I know for a fact that she already feels bad that I'm sick because of what she ordered for me._

I had to make her feel better...somehow.

I gave her hand a quick squeeze and she turned to me. "Sweetheart?"

I gave her a smile that I hope seemed comforting. "Don't worry, Mom. We'll be fine, I'm sure."

"Mitch is right, honey," intoned my dad in his deep voice. "Everything will be alright."

She smiled at both of us and I mentally added. _At least I hope so. I'm almost out of breath and dad doesn't look much better._

The screams behind us suddenly increased in volume and intensity and, stupidly, I turned my head to see what was going on.

I froze as I saw the most terrifying thing I had ever seen in my life.

She was almost half a mile away but I could see her as if she was right in front of me. She was at least three times as tall as any normal human with ivory skin, long white hair and so many, many wings and all asymmetrical. Despite the fact that she was completely naked, she had wings that covered all her "private parts", as if she actually had any. Chunks of skyscrapers, pavement, cars and roadwork followed her, occasionally flying through the air to hit a target I couldn't see.

My observations led me to one conclusion.

"Oh fuck...the Simurgh," I rasped, my throat suddenly drying up in fear.

 _I'm gonna die._ I had known that it was likely in an Endbringer attack but it didn't seem... _real_ before.

I glanced back up at the angel monster and shuddered. _Yeah, that's definitely real._

The twin gasps of shock from behind me led me to the belief that my parents had come to the same conclusion I had.

"Yes!"

I was wrong.

My parents, the crowd, they had all noticed something I missed. While I was focused on the Simurgh, they had noticed something that I had just caught.

 _The heroes...  
_  
The cheering was like a blast of sound hitting me from all directions.

For a moment, my fear dulled slightly as I saw what appeared to be a cloud of hundreds of flying parahumans attacking the monster. The crowd's cheering actually made me hope.  
 _  
Maybe they can chase her off, maybe we'll get lucky, maybe..._

My attempts at self delusion were cut off as She began her scream.

I ripped my hand from my mom's grip and clasped them over my ears in an attempt to block the noise.

It didn't help at all.

It was just so loud, so fucking loud. It came from everywhere at once. Even though I ran with my hands covering my ears, the unnatural sound persisted.

A sound like a million tortured people screaming for the sweet release of death all in unison. Nails on a chalkboard was nothing.

This was utter _hell._

All I wanted to do was bash my head in so I could be free from the horrible noise that She was torturing us with.

As the Simurgh continued to scream, my headache and nausea only increased as the crowd went mad around me. Half of them slowed down and fights began to break out.

It was madness.

 _What are you doing?,_ I felt like screaming. _She wants us to die and you're just doing her job for her._

I felt a sudden sharp pain to the back of my head and I fell, my hands too slow to break my fall.

My face hit the ground full-on and a white-hot pain erupted across my face/

 _My nose!_

I raised one hand to my gushing nose and another to the back of my head only to feel a hot, damp mess that I could only assume was my blood and hair.

Insticts kicking in, I rolled over in an attempt to see my attacker.

"...The hell?", was all I could vocalize due to my sheer surprise. "Mr. Wilden?" The man was a senior who lived in a beach house not too far from us. Seventy-four years old and retired, the only thing he had strength for was fishing...and apparently, bashing kids in the head with his cane.

I scrambled backwards as he kept swinging with a manic look in his eye, trying to brain me with his blood-stained cane.

His mouth moved, saying things that I couldn't hear due to the loudness of the crowd around us.

I stumbled backwards, crying out as my hand sunk into the chest of an overweight man lying still on the floor.

I scrambled back even faster. _God,_ I must have looked pathetic. Bloodshot eyes, bleeding nose, wearing nothing but Eidolon pajamas, and Armsmaster slippers, trying desperately to crawl away from a homicidal old man.

People were losing their heads, killing each other and dying while the biggest threat to my life was a retiree. _What's wrong with me?_

I gritted my teeth, mind made up. "Sorry about this, old man."

With a sharp kick, my foot slammed into his knee. I was ashamed to realize that a small part of me enjoyed the look of pain on his face and the loud cracking noise that his knee made. I scrambled to my feet, purposely ignoring the screaming that came from the old man.

 _It was him or me, right?_ I thought to myself, desperately trying to justify my actions. _He tried to kill me. I didn't even do that much.  
_  
I ignored the whisper in my mind telling me that he was going to still die because of what I did. I didn't have time for it.

I prepared to run again and I felt a wave of nausea hit me as I realized that I couldn't see my parents. Until Mr. Wilden had attempted to kill me, I had kept my eyes firmly locked on my mother's back, as my father was just slightly ahead, fighting his way through the crowd for us

The Simurgh's scream suddenly increased in volume and intensity. The million voices became ten million and I fell to my knees. The burning sensation of bile filled my throat as my eyes began to water.

Seconds later, the contents of my stomach flew out of my mouth, finding a new home on the pavement.

Through watery eyes, I looked up at the Simurgh and watched in horror as some of the Capes fighting her began to explode. It made for a sort of gory fireworks and I began to giggle to myself.

"We're all going to die", I whispered to no one as I continued to laugh. I ignored the people who ran past me, seemingly unaffected by the Simurgh's unholy noise, just trying to get to safety. I ignored the mothers gruesomely killing their children in whatever way they could. I ignored the cannibalism, I ignored the murder, I ignored the suicide. I ignored all the death. "This is it."

I looked up towards the cause of everything that was happening. I wasn't scared anymore. I had accepted it. This was the end. I took in the Simurgh's appearance one more time. I don't know what I was thinking before. She wasn't monstrous, she wasn't sadistic. People died all the time. She wasn't doing anything bad.

No, it was perfectly natural. She was getting closer with every passing second and I watched her, without moving from my place. I saw her beautiful snowy hair blowing in the wind, her expression peaceful, serene even. I imagined myself running my hands through those beautiful ivory wings, caressing her pale alabaster skin and placing a kiss on her beautiful, thin li-

"What...WHAT THE FUCK?!", I screamed out loud. My chest heaved as I tried to come to terms with what I was just thinking of. I began to dry heave and it was all I could do to prevent myself from throwing up once more.

However, my freak out ended abruptly as the Simurgh stopped screaming. She had frozen. Her wings stopped moving and all the massive detritus and debris held by telekinesis fell to the ground. All the Capes fighting her immediately dived for cover. No one attacked. Everyone was either hiding or attempting to get out of range. The civilians had stopped their mindless mayhem and simply stared at Her. Everything and everyone was deathly silent.

The Simurgh tilted her head upwards. Seconds passed and nothing happened.

Then, the sky broke apart and everything went insane.


	2. Prelude 2

**Prelude 2: Berserker From The Void**

 **Mitchell Pratt**

Today was just not my day. I stood in a silent, unmoving crowd of people who, quite recently, were tearing each other apart, running for their lives and screaming at the top of their lungs. Some of them had somehow managed to do all three at once. All of us were looking right above us at the impossible sight that was hanging over our heads. By that, I don't mean the fifteen foot tall psychic murder angel. I had accepted her existence long ago and when she had appeared less than 15 minutes ago, I had been able to accept my death gracefully and all I had to do was suffer a mild psychotic break in return. 'Though I'm not sure if fantasizing about the Simurgh counts as simply a mild psychotic break', I thought worriedly.

Hundreds of cracks, each at least a mile wide, appeared all over the sky, all of them converging at a spot hundreds of feet above the Simurgh, in a manner reminiscent of someone taking a bat to a windshield. The cracks continued to fracture and split, all the while making the most gruesome noise. For nearly a full minute, no one spoke, moved or breathed as we watched the sky fracture above us.

Suddenly, with a loud shattering noise that sounded like the largest piece of glass in the world, the sky split open and the blue heavens above disappeared. What it exposed was almost indescribable due to how unearthly it was. So many colors, patterns and odd shapes that were just not normal appeared to everyone below. Oddly, despite the fact that I was seeing colors and patterns, I still saw the massive breach above us as nothing but a thick, black miasma that spread out from the rip in the sky. It seemed to pulsate as it creeped outward, stretching out until it completely covered the kaleidoscope that it originated from.

 **"A new...reality set. Closed off from the Nexus. Very few of those.** ** _INTERESTING._** **"**

It was...creepy, to say the least, but I just couldn't stop looking at it. Every pulse seemed to mean something. It...it was almost as if it were SPEAKING to me.

 **"A limited multidimensional existence but purely physical? How quaint...WAIT. What is that?...YOU!"**

I kept staring at it but the more I looked at it, the more my head began to hurt and soon I had a splitting headache that surpassed what I felt from the Simurgh.

 **"You're perfect. I finally have a usable meat puppet of my own."**

I gritted my teeth and dug my fingernails into my palm until I drew blood but I couldn't stop looking. It...it was talking to me, I knew it! I couldn't look away until I...until...unti-

 **"How precocious. Give it a few more aeons before you attempt to understand my existence."**

Wha...what was I thinking about? I felt a warm dampness on my upper lip and raised a hand to touch it. I gasped softly as I saw the source of the dampness on my hand. "Why is my nose bleeding?", I asked myself, my voice barely a whisper. Without warning, a sharp pain erupted in my head and I stumbled backwards, my hand reaching for something to steady me. I grabbed on to a young. shirtless blonde guy wearing a puka shell necklace and he nearly fell with me before I steadied myself. As I stood firmly on my feet, I tilted my head to look at him and he continued to stare upwards, his expression blank and dazed. I glanced around and realized it wasn't just him. Everyone was staring blankly upwards, even the capes. My eyes narrowed and I looked upwards at the most likely culprit. I realized the reason for everyone's unmoving silence wasn't fear. It was _**HER.**_ 'Of course it's _**HER**_.', I thought to myself as I gazed at her chalk white form, my mind filled with hatred and anger. 'Who else would it be?'

 **"You're oddly obsessed with her. I suppose it makes sense. She did do some interesting things with your mind."**

The Simurgh's head tilted even further upwards and her eyes opened, the expression on her face shifting from her usual bored expression to a curious, almost inquisitive stare.

The gaping void above twisted and there was suddenly an enormous weight pressing down upon me, nearly forcing me to my knees. Looking around, I realized that it wasn't just me feeling it. Everyone was either hunched over or on their knees, their eyes no longer dazed and unfocused. Even some flying capes were struggling to maintain their balance. The contradictory colorful/empty space shifted to a dark, bloody red and a figure slowly floated out from the breach directly above the Simurgh.

 **"Finally. You're here."**

I squinted, struggling to make out their appearance. 'Who is that? Is it a new cape or something late to the fight?', I thought to myself, 'Fuck, I wish I could see.' **"If you want."**

And suddenly, I could. As if my eyes were binoculars, my vision zoomed in and I could suddenly see the figure as if he were right in front of me. What "...the hell is going on today? No. Not the time. Definitely not the time for this. Look at whoever that is up there. See what's going on. Freak out later.", I spoke to myself, trying to alleviate my stress.

 **"Wonderful. We're a match now."**

It was a teenager, a boy at least a few years older than I was. He had snow white hair, inhuman black eyes with red pupils and pale skin with odd reddish-black veins and markings all over his body that were clearly visible against his ivory skin. His clothes were ripped and damaged but I could tell they were obviously well made. He wore an blue and black vest with a hood and tight fitting blue and black patterned pants with at least 3 loose belts hanging off his waist. He had no shirt underneath the vest, allowing me to see an odd Tinkertech device that looked like it was fused into his skin. It was a metallic Y-shaped device with small circles at each extremity and a large one at the center. All of them glowed red. On his arms, he had large manacles that each had a large red, pulsing circle. His legs bore the same.

As he drifted out, the jagged tear in space and time slowly closed behind him, leaving the sky whole once more.

Even though the breach had disappeared, the sky had not returned to it's normal blue. Instead, the sky was a deep red, the color of fresh blood. I looked closer and I realized why. Surrounding the new cape was a blood red aura that was at least twice his height. Somehow, he was changing the environment with his very existence. It flared like a bonfire as he floated closer to the Simurgh.

'Why is he moving like that? Doesn't he realize that's the Motherfucking Simurgh right there?', I was stunned at the cape's behavior. His appearance was odd enough, 'Odd, as if. Those black eyes and the creepy black veins are straight scary. Weird pupils.', but the way he was casually meandering toward _**HER**_ was insane. 'It's like he has a death wish'

 **"Funny you should say that."**

I noticed the capes in the air and the ground had begun striking and blasting at the Simurgh with their fists and powers but _**SHE**_ simply lifted whatever was around her and deflected all of their strikes as easily as she did before, her gaze still firmly locked on the new cape. The capes began to pull back as they noticed she wasn't attacking them but the tension was still thick in the air.

The white haired cape reached Simurgh and they hung in the air, barely a few meters apart from each other. The Simurgh tilted her head and her expression of curiosity intensified, appearing almost frustrated. The cape stared back at Simurgh for roughly five seconds with the same blank stare he had when he appeared. Without warning, his face twisted into an angry grimace and he threw his head back and let out a bestial roar, a sound that literally shook the ground and made my teeth rattle. Before _**SHE**_ could react, he punched the Simurgh in her stupid face. I felt an all-consuming sense of bloodlust and sheer rage backed by a primal feeling of impossible, inhuman _**POWER**_ from the pale cape.

I watched the Pale Lady fly backwards for about a hundred feet before she caught herself and she began to hurl cars, rebar, trees and whatever was within range at him with her TK. The mystery cape made no effort to dodge as none of the debris even touched him. They came close, but they missed by just enough that the raging cape didn't have to move. The Simurgh flew back and I was stunned by how much damage had been done to her. Cracks covered her body, and parts of her had deep furrows and strips torn out of her. She began to ascend but the unknown cape _**MOVED,**_ and was suddenly in front of the Simurgh once again. He roared and a sixty foot long gout of red and black flames shot from his mouth and completely covered the Simurgh. The fire faded and the Simurgh was still there, the flames apparently doing very little.

Most of her wounds had begun to heal and only a few small gashes on her body were left. He roared in anger and _**BLURRED**_ and his fist slammed into her lily white body with such force and velocity that the ground hundreds of feet below began to shake and crack open. The buildings that the Simurgh did not entirely destroy began to crumble merely from the shockwave of his strikes. His entire body began to match the speed of his fists and feet and he started to move faster and faster, until he was completely invisible to my eyes. All I could see were the shockwaves from his hits and flashes of red on the Simurgh's body.

The ground below me was shaking and rumbling. I froze as I realized everyone around me was screaming. The people around me were terrified. 'Why wouldn't they be? Their entire lives are ruined and even if the Simurgh leaves, we're never getting out of Canberra.', I thought bitterly to myself, 'They're not even running all that fast for all the noise they're making." All of them were screaming and running around like lemmings, unsure of where to go for safety as everything seemed to be falling apart from the force of the fight.

The fight continued and the more the cape attempted to attack, the better the Simurgh began to respond. Every other strike began to miss, and the cape was being bombarded with steel rods that he merely slammed away with his bare fists. He dashed through the air towards the Simurgh like a giant bullet and was knocked back by a storm of of rebar, cars and glass that the Simurgh sent flying. Most of the items broke apart harmlessly on his durable skin but a thrown semi truck sent him hurtling into a half-demolished skyscraper, finishing the job.

He pulled himself from the rubble and shot at the Simurgh, roaring like a madman and was slammed skywards by the force of the Simurgh crashing an apartment building into him. The Simurgh tilted her head and simply ripped several massive steel girders and rods from the frame of a demolished skyscraper. They rotated around her for a few seconds before shooting towards the dazed berserker, each of them producing audible sonic booms from the force of the Simurgh's telekinetic thrust. Fortunately, the cape was quick to recover. With midair acrobatics that were amazing to watch, he dodged each and every one.

With the Simurgh's makeshift missiles rocketing into the atmosphere, he roared and his eyes began to glow a bright red. Multiple scarlet beams shot from his eyes towards the Simurgh. Most of them missed, scorching the ground and turning metal to slag. The few capes still in the midst of the fight between the two scrambled to escape the scarlet beams of fiery death. A few happened to hit the Simurgh, once again exposing her silvery insides for a second before they closed again.

As I watched the fight between the two, I noticed that the red aura around the new cape had dimmed and the sky seemed to be turning a lighter shade of red. Compared to how he was when this fight started mere minutes ago, he was barely half as fast. My eyes widened in shock. "Shit, is he...he's getting weaker!"

The white haired cape seemed to realize the same thing. He threw his head back and let out a roar once more. As he did so, thousands of marble sized red and black energy balls appeared above his mouth. With a blinding flash of red light, they were gone and the cape had a vicious grin on his face. I looked at the Simurgh and my eyes widened in shock. "Oh...my...god.",was all I could say. Half the Simurgh had completely vanished. Her entire lower half no longer existed. No legs, no lower wings, nothing below her waist was there at all. She looked like a statue someone had torn down. The Simurgh began to fly away at a high speed. The fact that she lacked half her wings didn't seem to be slowing her down in the slightest. He chased after her, screaming at the top of his lungs, unwilling to let her escape. Every charge, every lunge he made, every strike he threw at the Simurgh was dodged. He was too slow to touch her and the red continued to fade from the skies, and his aura continued to wane.

They climbed higher and higher and I continued to watch, my vision reaching distances that I knew would normally require a telescope. She struck him with her telekinesis repeatedly, striking him with bits of metal, ripping apart his clothing and cutting him. For the first time since he had appeared, I saw him bleed. She threw an eighteen-wheeler at him, impacting him full force and he was sent flying upwards. She descended to the ground and she hung in the air, barely a hundred feet above the ground. The pale berserker recovered from her assault and his wounds healed over quicker than hers had and flew down to her, determined to finish what he had started. The White Angel face moved upwards toward the approaching cape and she...smiled at him.

I looked upwards and began to shake in fear. Every single item she had thrown at him in the fight hung several miles above the city, held aloft only by _ **HER**_ will...and then they began to fall directly towards him. The cape continued to rush towards the Simurgh, completely oblivious of his impending doom. 'I have to warn him. I need to.' I gritted my teeth and I steeled myself, took a deep breath and prepared to let out a warning yell only to be interrupted by a female cape on the ground screaming out, " **BEHIND Y-** ", before she was permanently silenced. The white haired cape paused and glanced towards the direction where the screaming cape formerly was only to see the bloody steel girder impaled four feet in the ground. A look of realization slowly crossed his face and he whipped around to gaze skyward only to be struck by a falling cement mixer.

I winced at the sound of his pained scream and he began to free fall. He crashed into the ground, carving out a deep trench with the force of his landing, and made and attempt to get up. He tried to move but a hail of cars, trucks, boats, houses, brick, rebar, girders, steel, iron, glass, wood, concrete prevented him from taking a single step. The barrage felt like it went on for hours despite the fact that it had been barely over a minute. Thousands of makeshift missiles rained down on him with sounds of thunder, leaving massive craters in the ground. With every powerful crash, the red began to fade from the sky until the sky was as blue as it had been in the beginning.

Eventually, it stopped. Minutes passed without any sign of movement from the massive mountain of rubble that entombed the white haired cape and the Simurgh, still legless, began to float away as gracefully as ever. 'Is he...?', I wondered to myself, 'Could he possibly be dead? Could anyone survive that?'

As if in response to my question, the mountain of debris began to rumble and the Simurgh paused and turned around in the air. Her face had a look that I could only describe as a mix of annoyance and exasperation. In an explosion of blue light, the cape burst out from underneath his prison, sending debris and detritus flying.

His appearance had changed. The white had vanished from the majority of his hair, leaving only a thick white skunk stripe in the middle of his now black hair. The black veins that had stood out so firmly against his pale skin had disappeared. His eyes had shifted to a stunning, vibrant blue and the devices on his chest and limbs had lost their red glow, dimming to a pale blue. His scarlet aura had disappeared and the rage and madness in his eyes had disappeared, leaving behind a steely determination.

Raising his gloved hand to his face, he wiped blood away from his mouth and smirked. "Alright, bitch. Let's finish this." And with that said, he vanished in a blue flash of light.


	3. Introductions 1-1

**Introductions 1.1**

Introductions 1.1

Evron Grey was confused. He was not really used to being confused. He liked to think that in his years of being a superhero, he had seen everything there was to see. In his defense, he had seen a hell of a lot. However, he had just spent the last few weeks fighting a full-scale war.

In short, he was tired, he was hungry and he had used much more energy than was safe and ended up Redlining...again. He hated it.

After using too much of his own energy without proper control, his body would attempt to stay awake at all costs, forcing him into a state where he was both weaker and less in control of himself. He barely remembered anything during those periods and it always annoyed him to no end.

This time was hardly different. He had awoken on his hands and knees, buried under a huge pile of building materials and vehicles but he didn't really care about that. It wasn't the the first time, after all. He wasn't being crushed so whatever.

He blinked rapidly as short flashes of memories hit him. "How the hell did I end up in a fight right after I just finished the last one?", he mumbled to himself with a resigned sigh,"Let's just get this over with."

Evron closed his eyes, trying to gauge if he had enough in his internal reserve to take on this weird, crystalline angel monster that was rampaging in this city.

He let out a deep breath he hasn't realized he'd been holding and he opened his eyes. "Shit...I barely have enough", he spat through gritted teeth.

He hated burning through his own energy when he was low like this. It wasn't painful, per se, but it felt like a million little insects running through his veins, increasing the sensitivity of his body with every tiny little step. 'Fuck, I've been in worse situations. First things first, let's get out of here.' His hands began to glow and he steeled himself.

Hunched over as he was, he slammed his knuckles together. With a pulse of blue light, the mountain of debris exploded, leaving him at the center of a wide crater. He looked up and noticed all the unfamiliar superheroes looking down at him. His eyes hardened as he spotted the weird crystal angel monster looking down at him.

He shot a glare at the creature and wiped the blood from his mouth. "Alright, bitch! Let's finish this!", he said with as smirk.

Despite the confident look on his face, his bravado was forced. 'I'm not as fast as I should be right now. I have to make the most of what I have if I'm going to win this.'

"Out of my way!" Forcing power to his legs, he jumped. Even to an enhanced eye, the energy-enhanced jump was so fast that he appeared to teleport directly in front of the monster.

Without pause, he swung a glowing fist at Her and was not surprised at all when she gracefully slid out of the path of his first punch. Strike after strike was thrown, combinations and chains of attacks were launched with precision and at the speed of sound.

With every strike, waves of energy flew from his fists, most completely missing the angelic monster. The wayward blasts sent multiple metas scattering as they came too close for comfort. The blasts that landed on the ground ended up creating massive craters and scorching the land.

One of his errant blasts struck a female in a black suit, sending her hurtling into one of the few buildings that were still standing. Another wearing a green hood and cape rushed to blast at the angel with some odd type of energy only to be slapped away by an antenna tower that the thing was obviously controlling.

Evron was too busy fighting the monster to notice the effect his attacks were having on his environment or the other superhumans around him. 'How? She's not even moving that fast!', he screamed to himself, 'This makes no sense.'

He launched a spinning kick that was lazily dodged and flew backwards until he was no longer in close range with the thing. Cupping his palms in front of him, Evron made sure none of his fingers were touching each other, all the while dodging the various items the creature launched at him. The space between his palms began to glow and a small sphere of vibrant blue light began to appear while smaller orbs formed on each of his finger tips and thumbs.

With a sound like a cannon, the blue sphere between his palms became a powerful beam, rocketing towards the angel. "Try and dodge this!", With that said, Evron immediately covered the beam with his fingers and the energy on his fingertips converged with the bright blue beam, turning it from a single beam into thousands of pencil-thin lasers intersecting each other.

With an ease that was becoming infuriatingly familiar, the monster managed to avoid being hit by all of the small lasers and floated unhurt in the middle of Evron's laser grid. "No way in hell.", he spoke through gritted teeth. With a twitch of his fingers, the position of the lasers shifted. Again, she remained untouched. With another twitch, the position of the lasers shifted again. 'How in the hell is this bitch avoiding my Death Grid? I don't even know where the lasers will show up. It's completely random.' He let the intersecting beams dissipate and shot a glare at the thing, his eyes glowing a bright blue, and she stared back blankly at him with her white eyes.

Blue eyes suddenly widened as he came to a realization.

"You...oh my god! You're a Precog? A fucking Precog? That's what I've been worried about. This is ridiculous. I've been wasting all this time," Evron chuckled as he spoke, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"I'm going to rip you in half...again. Vertically this time.", he added after glancing at the angel's partially regrown lower half. "...because apparently having no legs doesn't bother you at all." His blue eyes flashed and shifted to a deep, glowing emerald. The Tinkertech devices on his chest and limbs simultaneously changed to match his eyes and a hazy verdant aura sat just atop his skin.

His body began to vibrate and shudder and he clenched his fists. With a sound like an explosion, he disappeared, a shockwave spreading from where he previously hovered in midair. He reappeared directly in front of the angel, his entire arm glowing greener than the rest of his body and pulled back for a powerful swing.

His blow connected and the resulting sound was utterly deafening. A green wave of energy exploded from his fist as soon as he made contact, creating a massive cylinder of green energy that lanced through the ground, leaving a massive hole in the ground beneath them. Air was forced away from the epicenter of the strike, clearing the area of any dust and causing debris to fly through the air. The creature was damaged, that much he could clearly see.

Half her face was cracked open. The wings covering her chest were little more than silvery fragments, exposing Her androgynous chest. Large fragment of her skin were simply gone and cracks covered the majority of her porcelain skin. Despite this, he could feel that all this damage was merely superficial.

She was still as capable as ever.

He dashed away from the angelic creature and watch her drift from side to side to side as if dazed. 'It's not enough. She can't see where I am or where I'm going to be but that's not going to last forever.', thought Evron worriedly. 'God damn, this bitch is pretty durable for someone having this level of power.'

"One...Final", he clenched his fists and began to glow brighter and brighter, until he appeared to be a bright emerald sun in the sky, "...Strike!" Another wave of green energy shot out, this one seemingly doing nothing to affect the environment.

The wave spread and spread, until it encompassed the entirety of Canberra and beyond. Everything was silent. Evron wheezed as he felt an extreme wave of exhaustion overtake him and he landed, lacking energy to stay afloat. 'That...that definitely took a lot... more than I thought.' He looked up through half-lidded eyes and nearly screamed in shock. 'She's still... How is she not down? The backlash from that should take down any Precog or Mind Reader. How... Shit...'

He felt the force before it hit him and he braced himself in preparation for the pain. It didn't help in the slightest. The wave of telekinetic force launched him upwards and he flew through the air. As he reached the apex of his flight, another blast of TK struck him and he felt his arm shatter.

'I shouldn't have held back. If I had gone full out, this wouldn't be happening.' His thoughts were interrupted as a massive, house-sized piece of concrete and steel slammed into him, sending him hurtling downwards. 'This is my fault.'

He fell toward the ruins of the city below. This was the end. His last attack had cost him what little energy he had left. Everything he had done was for nothing. He landed on his back and a sickening crack was heard. His body was stressed to the brink and he was far too drained to move, his grandstanding having wasted whatever energy he had left.

He couldn't feel anything below his waist and his heart wrenched as he realized how vulnerable he was. His chest exploded with pain and he spit up a gout of blood. A thin steel rail had fallen from above, piercing his chest, leaving him pinned to the ground as his nerves lit up in pain.

His body was already hyper-sensitive and his normally extremely high pain tolerance was forced to the limit. Metahumans began to attack en masse again, determined not to let the monster succeed. Waves of abnormally powerful TK knocked back nearly every cape from within reach of her, sending them flying back or crashing to the ground.

Evron looked up at the angel hovering directly above, five more thin steel rods floating around her. With four sharp thuds, the rods landed, piercing through each one of his limbs, nailing him to the ground.

A scream of pain ripped from his throat before he forced it down. Another steel rod hung high above him, aimed directly at his head. "...Can't believe I'm losing this stupid fight," he croaked.

The rod began to drop.

Annoyance filled his eyes. "Just... get out of here!" A bright flash of blue light appeared, obscuring his body. Before it even landed, it was knocked aside by a rainbow colored beam from high in the sky.

\- ~0~ - ~0~ - ~0~ - ~0~ - ~0~ - ~0~

Evron appeared in what, from what he could tell, was an alley. His vision was beginning to darken but he could definitely make out the orange tint of the sky, telling him that the sun was just about to set.

Brick walls, covered in ugly graffiti, surrounded him on both sides. Slow, nervous footsteps made their way towards him.

He looked up, wincing at how even the slightest movement nearly elicited a scream of pain. A tall, lanky awkward looking teen stood above him, mouth agape at the sight of his damaged, blood covered body. That was the last thing he saw before everything went black.


	4. Introductions 1-2

Introductions 1.2

Evron awoke to a dull, constant ache in his joints and chest as well as a throbbing pain in his head. The pain in his muscles was nothing he hadn't felt before but the headache was enough to be a mild annoyance. He blinked and shook his head several times to clear the throbbing pain away. His sight began to clear and he was finally able to see his surroundings. It was...quaint. A small room with some type of...ancient computer in the corner. The walls were covered with faded posters of superheroes that he didn't recognize and various unfamiliar superhero memorabilia littered the room.

Evron felt the fog lift from his head and he suddenly realized that he was not alone in the room. A teenage boy sat in a chair directly across from him. A mop of untidy blonde hair was the first thing he noticed. The second was the wide eyed look of excitement on the stranger's face.

"...Hey", he said, cautiously.

"You're awake!",began the blonde excitedly, "I thought you were dead, you know, 'cause you had huge holes all over your body and you were bleeding everywhere and blood was everywhere and I was freaked out 'cause I didn't know what to do _butthenyouwereglowingandeverythingandthenyoustoppedbleedingand-"_

Evron rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed as the kid began to ramble and go off on tangents. This always happened when he met fans. He couldn't blame the guy. He must have gotten a shock when he appeared out of nowhere all beaten and bloody. However, Evron still had a headache and the blonde's nonstop talking was only aggravating it.

" _andyourheartwasgonelitteralynotihingwhereyourheartwassupposedtobeandiwaslikewhoathisguy'sdefinitelydeadbutthenyouwerentandiwaslikewhoaagainand-"_

 **"DUDE!"** , shouted Evron. The blonde shut up, blue eyes widening in shock at the sudden increase in volume. "Okay. Didn't mean to scare you, man. I was just worried you were about to pass out. You know, cause you weren't breathing.", he continued, the jibe flowing off his tongue naturally.

The blonde scratched the back of his head as a sheepish expression spread across his face. "Heh...sorry. It's a bad habit. I tend to talk a lot. Sorry." He gulped nervously and put his arm out. "My name's Greg, by the way. Greg Veder. Sorry about my room. I'm kind of a cape geek, if you haven't already guessed." His expression somehow became even more embarrassed.

Evron took his arm with a confident grin and gave it a firm shake. "Name's Evron Grey but, of course, you already knew that. "

Greg looked stunned. "Your real name?! Really?!"

"Of course. I've only used my real name for about three years now." Evron's expression became confused at the odd look on Greg's face. "It's me...Evron...Grey. Titan...Have you been living under a rock? It's me!"

Greg shrugged. "I have no idea who you are, man. You must not be that famous if nobody mentions you on PHO, especially if you use your real name. I'm there all the time and I never heard about you. Maybe you're just a lot less important than you think you are." Greg smiled nervously as he finished talking.

"L-less...less important than I think I am?", spluttered Evron," You have to be joking. I am literally the most important on Earth. I've saved the entire world way more times than you could count! I'm the leader of Titanwatch! I run Grey Incorporated! How do you not know me?!", he screamed.

Greg jumped up and waved his arms, trying to calm Evron down. "I'm sorry! I'm _sorrysorrysoryy!_ You're probably super famous! I don't know what I'm talking about, man!" 'Oh my god, I'm alone in the house with a cape who's definitely insane. I'm gonna die!'

Evron closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You know what, it doesn't matter. You obviously know nothing at all about...anything. I'm gonna make a call. Be quiet for like thirty seconds."  
Evron raised his arm until one of the metal Tinkertech devices was level with his mouth. " Nia, contact Anton Mercer."

The device beeped once and spoke in a digital imitation of a low pitched female voice. "Unable to contact Anton Mercer. Contact information invalid."  
"What are you talking about?! Contact Dana Grey!" "Unable to contact Dana G-" "Contact Craig Keller!" "Unable to contact Crai-"

"Shit!", he cursed loudly, oblivious to Greg's growing anxiety. 'This can't be. I should be able to reach them no matter how far away they are. Unless...no...not...' Evron felt his heart drop into his stomach as he realized something. "...Nia, access the Net and give me information on known hero Evron Grey or hero group Titanwatch."

A Second later, a beep was heard. "No information was found on known hero Evron Grey or hero group Titanwatch.", reported Nia.

Evron jerked his head over to Greg, who had been attempting to sneak out of the room while Evron was occupied. "Greg?"

The blonde jumped nervously and gulped. "Y-yeah..." 'So close...'

"What year is this?" Evron asked, his face blank of emotion.

"2-2-...2011...why?", he responded anxiously.

Evron sighed. "...no reason but for some reason, **THE UNIVERSE FUCKING HATES ME!** How could this happen again?"

"What happened...again?", Greg wondered.

Evron stood up from Greg's bed and let out another deep breath. "Greg, lets just say...I'm not from around here."


	5. Interlude 1a: Ziz

Interlude 1a: Inhuman Perspectives

Ziz 1

(Lower Earth Orbit, Earth)

Her senses were gone. The tools that she had relied on since the moment of her creation in order for her to carry out the task had been removed. No...not removed. Limited...no...altered, changed, _warped. Yes, warped._

She could barely track a few existences, let alone the multitudes she used to monitor. She saw no fulcrum points, no possibilities. She could no longer track like she once did, no longer sense and comprehend the actions that once were and she now lacked the ability to comprehend the many possibilities in store.

The information she had gathered prior to this point was there but the understanding that she had was lacking. She knew what it meant, of course, and she could act on it and attempt to set new paths that she could track but it would not be worth it. Without her full capabilities, it would be a childish fumbling compared to her once masterful, subtle proddings.

She had a task to complete but how would she complete said task without the proper tools? It could be done...but it wouldn't be done right. Her postcognition was limited to the data she had already collected and she could not extrapolate the actions of those she had not tracked without gathering data of their past but now lacked a method of doing so. She could still perceive some future actions but without the constant analysis of her postcognition, she could not separate the pivotal elements from the trivial. It was all a scattered mess of information and it frustrated her. She could still see one target at a time. One target...only one among billions? She was essentially blind. She had what little data she had collected of the past but she could not use that to extrapolate the multitude of possibilities that could be. No past...no future...

She thought back to the last time she had access to her full abilities, the moment when the Anomaly appeared. Her pretercognition had begun weakening and at some points during the encounter with the Anomaly, stopped working entirely. It was as if he did not exist at all. She could not extrapolate. She could not control his excretions, manipulate his senses, nothing at all. She had been forced to focus all her attention on her precognition in order to prevent her premature termination. Self-preservation was the only goal she could focus on. This had left her vulnerable for some time and the Anomaly had taken advantage of her weakness, damaging her more than she had even been before. She had gained the upper hand but she knew this was not due to any effort on her part. The Anomaly had exhausted itself and she had attempted to terminate It's existence but It had escaped before she could complete It's termination. Her abilities had fallen to their current state shortly before the Anomaly had disappeared entirely. A feeling of annoyance overcame her at the thought of the Anomaly and how It had been nearly invisible to her sight. Annoyance...odd. Emotions were not relevant to the task. She did not feel. She was not created with the ability to feel.

She felt the brush of atmospheric wind on her crystalline skin and tilted her head at the odd sensation. She was confused. She had no sense of touch. She was not supposed to feel. Emotions were not relevant, completely unecessary...yet she had them. The Simurgh opened her white eyes and froze. For hours, she hung in the exact same position, no longer following the orbit of the planet. The Simurgh **saw.** She saw **everything.** What could only be described as a smile covered her face as she gazed upon the Earth below.


	6. Introductions 1-3

**Introductions 1.3**

"You're an alien?!" Greg jumped to his feet, moving so suddenly that his chair skidded on the wooden floor and slammed into his wall.

For the third time since he had met Greg, another sigh fell from Evron's throat. "Greg, I didn't say that I wasn't from Earth. I said that I'm not from **this** Earth. I'm not an alien... _Technically, I'm not human anymore, though_."

Greg scrunched his eyebrows together together and tilted his head slightly. "What? So, you're from another universe like Earth Aleph?"

"What? You guys already made contact with another universe? Already? When?" It was now Evron's turn to be confused.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, I don't really remember when we found out about Aleph. I think it was about like a long while ago. A cape made a doorway or something to Aleph and then Aleph started getting Capes. Weak Capes, though."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm not from Earth...Aleph."

"How do you...know that? I mean, for sure?" Greg said, his visible Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously.

"How long have people had powers on this Earth, Greg?" Evron's eyes flickered over to the computer Greg sat in front of and the large amount of superhero memorabilia that he found completely unfamiliar.

Greg shrugged. "I guess about thirty years."

Evron slowly paced around the room, eyes still analyzing the entirety of Greg's room. "On my Earth, nobody had powers until the year 2025 and it's been over three hundred years since then..."Evron paused and stared at Greg as he began to splutter and cough.

"Thr-thr...three h-hundred years. That's crazy...Wait. I call bullshit." Greg calmed his breathing and gave Evron a disbelieving look as his voice took on a derisive, mocking tone. "Oh...okay...first, you're from another Earth, then you're from the future. Suuuuureee...I get that you're a Cape and that's really cool. It really is." Greg's voice shifted from mocking to patronizing as if Evron were a small child who believed in fairy tales.

Unmindful of the blank look on Evron's face, Greg continued on. "You have a power, that's awesome. Sure, all you can do is heal yourself but that's still pretty cool. I mean, you're no Alexandria or Eidolon but you don't have to make stuff up to make yourself feel better." Greg smiled at Evron as he finished, oblivious to how condescending his little pep talk was.

"You done talking?" Evron asked, his face the very picture of bored annoyance. "Good. Listen close, Greg. On my Earth, information about alternate realities is a really good secret. Like, the type of secret that would get a regular person a visit from some not-so-friendly guys in black suits if they found out. It's not something that a random guy like you would know about."

Greg nodded silently and looked at the ground, his face burning in embarrassment.

"Greg, I'm gonna leave.", said Evron after a short pause.

Greg stammered. "Why? I thought you could stay for a while till you healed up."

"I'm healed, dude. Right now, I'm just a bit drained." He raised a hand to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Look, I'm glad you picked me up off the street but I need to get back to my own universe. I can't do that here. Trust me, you **DON'T** want me to do that here. I assume you like your house in one piece."

"So you're really a big time Hero? Like Eidolon?" Greg asked, eyes wide with excitement.

Evron smirked and zipped up his hoodie, hiding the device on his chest. "I have no idea who the hell that is but yeah, the biggest. Everyone on my Earth and a couple others know the name Evron Grey. I've fought the biggest, baddest, strongest villains ever and me and my team...heh...we don't lose. "

Greg took in a shallow breath. "Cool..."

Evron turned around, facing Greg's window.

"Wait!" Greg called out," Can't we talk about, you know, your Earth a bit more first? Before you leave, I mean." 'Come on man, don't go yet. You're the first Cape I've ever talked to.'

Without even turning around, Evron responded. "I really can't do that, Greg. I have to start heading home. My friends need me. My world needs me. It was...uh...interesting talking to you. Some advice; just take it from me, learn to relax a bit. You're kind of all over the place."

Greg gave him a sad smile. "Yeah, a couple of people have mentioned that I am kind of...awkward."

Evron turned his head, returning Greg's smile. "You'll be fine, man. Thanks for letting me use your bed, by the way. See ya. "

With that, Evron leapt out Greg's open window.

Greg ran to his window and looked out to see Evron already high above his house flying away. "So cool...That was unreal. I've got to tell people on PHO about this." He sunk into his chair and was about to enter said forum when he heard his front door open and a voice called out.

"Greg, honey, I'm home. I hope you don't mind. The store was out of the chips you like so I got you-OH MY GOD, IS THIS BLOOD?!"

Greg felt his heart drop into his chest. 'Shit! I forgot to clean the blood he left on the door! I'm so dead. Mom already saw it.'

"GREG? GREG?!"

'I save a hero and this is what happens. Fuck you, Karma!'

"GREGORY LUCAS VEDER! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

 **These are terms that will be receiving heavy use in later chapters. Wanted to get them out of the way now.**

 **Glossary Of Terms**

 **Archetypes:** An Archetype is a set of primary powers that classify a Superhuman. Paragon; Flight, Strength, Speed, Durability, Energy Projection, Enhanced Senses, Enhanced Mental Processes. Tank; Strength, Durability. Runner; Speed, Agility. Bruiser; Strength, Speed, Durability. Battery; Energy Projection, Energy Absorption, Energy Manipulation. Brain; Enhanced Mental Processes, Mental Control, Precognition. Hunter; Enhanced Senses. Jumper; Teleportation. Shifter; Physical Manipulation. Bestial; Animal Physiology

 **Church of Health, Prayer and Love :** Colloquially known as the Cult of Love, they worked with the Imagination Foundation to create the creatures that H.P. Lovecraft wrote about in order for them to worship. They were surprisingly successful.

 **Enhanced Human:** A human that undergoes a procedure in which they are modified using the genetic information of Superhumans.

 **Gene Modification:** A procedure in which a normal human is modified into an Enhanced Human using the collected DNA and genetic information of Superhumans.

 **Global Security Agency:** An organization created by the United States that was taken over by the United Nations. Created in 2030, it was originally the Mutant Control Agency.

 **Grey Incorporated:** International business conglomerate formerly run by Evron Grey's father, Richard M. Grey. Evron Grey took over after his father and grandfather were found dead under mysterious circumstances.

 **Imagination Foundation:** A large group of mad scientists determined to create the monsters and creatures found in fantasy works from dragons to zombies, werewolves and vampires. They were very, very successful.

 **Iceberg:** A world famous Charity organization that has been around for over 300 years. Known ties to Evron Grey.

 **Justice:** Founding Member of Freedom Guard. Brain AT, Runner AT, Hunter AT.

 **Korath:** An empire of former galactic conquerors who worship the Nexus and Evron as his successor for granting them powers. The average Korath adult is a trained fighter able to lift 25 tons and run at speeds exceeding two hundred miles an hour. A member of a noble house is expected to be at least 200 times as powerful while the Royal Family is at least ten times as strong as any member of a noble house.

 **Liberty:** Formerly Lady Liberty, she is considered the most powerful female superhuman on Earth. Founding Member of Freedom Guard. Paragon AT.

 **Mayhem:** Group of powerful mutant terrorists who believe mutants are the strongest predators on Earth. They regularly caused mass killings and disasters. All members killed by Titanwatch. Founding Members; Mastermind, Riff, Pierce, Killing Machine, Godiva, Schadenfreude, Ubermensch and Romero.

 **Metahuman:** An empowered individuals who gain superhuman abilities but possess no Zero Gene. Metahumans tend to develop powers in areas of high **Zirin** concentration or areas of high **Superhuman** activity. They have high potential for natural power growth and are the lowest at risk for Power Incontinence  & Power Overload. They tend to be rather weak but their abilities grow in power with both age and experience.

 **Mutant:** An empowered individual whose abilities are due to the **Zero Gene** found in 80% of Evron's Earth. A Mutant's powers appear in times of extreme stress and or near-death. A Mutant can manifest between the ages of 8-38. Mutants tend to possess more powerful abilities than Metahumans, Transhumans and Enhanced Humans but have little to no potential for natural power growth. Mutants are at a higher risk of **Power Incontinence** & **Power Overload** than both Trans and Metas.

 **Mutant Riots:** The Mutant Riots were an international attack on the world's governments led by Patient Zero's group of mutant terrorists and human supporters in 2050. This led to the governments of several European, African and South American countries collapsing entirely and the UK to return to the days of the absolute monarchy.

 **Nexus:** The Nexus refers to one extradimensional being who is the origin of all superhuman abilities in the near infinite numbers of reality sets it controls. It is essentially omnipotent, and gains enjoyment from life by living it through the eyes of a lesser sapient, it's host Evron Grey.

 **Paragon:** Formerly the world's strongest superhuman and leader of the Freedom Guard, he was killed in a fight by Evron Grey after going berserk. Paragon AT.

 **Patient Zero:** The first natural mutant ever known. He is also the cause of the Zero Virus being released which led to the death of hundreds of millions and the rise of the Zero Gene in the population.

 **Power Incontinence:** An affliction that effects many Superhumans with physical abilities. In individuals with speed based powers, it manifests as a period of intense hyper acceleration colloquially referred to as "The Jitters". In individuals with high durability, it manifests as Insensitivity to External Stimuli and Total Sensory Deprivation.

 **Power Overload:** An affliction similar to Power Incontinence that, instead of affecting those with physical abilities, affects those with energy based powers. They tend to cause much more collateral damage than Power Incontinence.

 **Reality Set:** Every instance of a known universe. Example: Every Harry Potter Fic exists in one reality set.

 **Reapers:** An underground gang centered in the US that hunts low powered mutants and strips them of their organs and vital fluids.

 **Superhuman:** A term used to refer to Enhanced Humans, Metahumans, Mutants, and Transhumans as a whole.

 **Syndicate:** A shadowy criminal organization that is believed to control organized crime internationally. Suspected ties to Evron Grey.

 **Titanwatch:** Originally a United States sponsored superhero team for the best heroes in the world, it was secretly a method to monitor, manipulate and control the strongest Superhumans. It was rendered useless by the GSA's Freedom Guard. It was later revived as the world's premier super team by Evron Grey AKA Titan.

 **Transhuman:** A superhuman that possesses their powers from birth. They possess similar or identical powers to their parents/other family members and their offspring will possess the same or similar powers. Average potential for power growth. Less powerful than Mutants but More so than Metahumans.

 **Zirinium:** An element not native to Earth that was found in large quantities on Earth in a meteor shower in 2010. This element is very unstable and has been documented to have mutagenic properties. Superhumans have been found to produce a variant called Zirin which powers their abilities.


	7. Introductions 1-4

**Introductions 1.4**

Evron flew over Brockton Bay, his enhanced senses giving him insights into what the city was like. He was not impressed. Graffiti littered various walls. Drug addicts lay dazed in alleys, lost in narcotic hazes. Racist imagery and swastikas...Fucking Swastikas...were all over the place. Frankly, Brockton Bay disgusted him. He landed on a rather tall building and prepared to research everything the Net had on this world's powered and non-powered troubles. The device on his right arm opened up, exposing a rather large holographic screen, displaying various articles discussing the issues that plagued this world; which was apparently named Earth Bet, for some reason. As he read, the more he felt this world was a lost cause.

E88; a Nazi group, unsurprising. There was always at least one of those. Merchants; a gang of drug addicts that forcefully inducted others into their ranks. That was rather rare. Drug addicts could barely focus on anything more than acquiring more drugs. Heartbreaker, just a Narcissus that went evil. Lung the Dragon, Oni Lee & the ABB, Asian Nazis. That was definitely a new one. The Elite actually seemed somewhat useful. They were almost like a Syndicate that was just starting out. He could appreciate that. The Slaughterhouse 9; this...this was all too familiar. They sounded exactly like Mayhem, only older, more experienced, and more sadistic as well as with a higher turnover rate for members. The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine. He continued reading. Ash Beast, Moord Nag, The Three Blasphemies and...Endbringers. 'Endbringers? An apocalypse group?... **What...** **the'** Evron's eyes began to twitch and he felt the familiar **burn** in his blood that told him that he was getting too angry too quickly. **'That angel bitch...the Simurgh...quarantines, ticking time bombs. Leviathan...Newfoundland...Japan. Behemoth the Hero Killer.'** This world was more than horrible. It was more than sad. It was **"Pathetic** **..."** , hissed Evron through gritted teeth, his pupils turning a bright red. It really was. Their most powerful hero team, this Triumvirate, barely did anything of note. The only bright spot seemed to be this Scion and his powers seemed to have left him mentally disabled.

Evron had been a hero for over ten years. During those ten years, he had done a lot more to handle crime than anyone knew or would approve of, violent crime especially. Regardless of the fact that some of his methods were rather unsavory and most of them were outright illegal, he and Titanwatch; his superhero team, had made the world a much safer place. Worldwide, every city that he had a base in had little to no crime. Well, crime that he didn't organize at least. He had always wondered what would happen to a world with superpowers if his family had not taken control as quickly as they had. Now he knew. **'Just thirty years of powers and your world goes to shit. Pitiful.'**

His world was functional and criminals knew what the limits were. If they did not abide by his rules, they were taken care of...personally. City destroying monsters were taken care of. This world obviously didn't have the methods to take care of itself or it's problems. Evron knew an opportunity was right in front of him. Another world was available. If it couldn't handle the Simurgh, it definitely couldn't handle him. Another world that he could mold in his image and this time, it would be all his work. No Grey family to backstab him, no Syndicate to assist, no Iceberg to claim credit for his work. He leapt off the building and flew into the air, the cold night air not bothering him in the slightest, and spread his arms out wide. His vision increased until he saw for miles around. 'This could all be mine. Another world to make my own...to control... **WAIT...no...'**

Evron shook his head and dropped back down to the rooftop below him. His vision receded and his pupils returned to their normal bright blue. "God, I've got to keep that under control. Can't afford to be all Megalo again when I head back home," he muttered to himself, 'That's a whole new level of crazy I don't need right now. Now, time to go hom-urk!' Evron gasped as his perception of the world sped up immensely without his control and time stopped. "Not this...not right now **...Nexus** **!"** Evron's teeth were exposed in a growl of rage and he whipped his head around as if looking for someone. **"Nexus, show yourself!"**

 **"You appear to be enraged. Why is that?"** A soft voice that somehow seemed to be coming from everywhere at once spoke out.

"I said, **SHOW YOURSELF!"** , roared Evron once more.

 **"Alright."**

A figure appeared a few feet in front of Evron. There was no sound, no effect, no distortion to mark his appearance. He might as well have been standing in front of Evron for hours.

Evron glared at his own face standing across from him. The being was almost an exact match to Evron's appearance. His eyes were white and lacked pupils. His hair was a solid white. He wore a solid plain white T-shirt and long baggy white pants. Nexus. The extradimensional existence that had been attached to Evron before he had even been born. He was also the source of Evron's powers. In fact, he was the source of all the powers in every reality Evron had ever been to. He was also omnipotent. Either that or he was as close a facsimile as Evron had ever seen. A short time ago, he had been one of Evron's best friends. That was no longer the case.

"What do you want, Nexus?", Evron spat, his teeth gritted. "I told you I didn't want to talk to you again."

Nexus stared blankly at Evron. **"I doubt you realize the sheer impossibility of your wish. I exist inside your consciousness. Every stray thought of yours is essentially a conversation with me. Regardless, we communicate on a level deeper than words or thought. You know this well."**

Evron continued to glare at Nexus, his eyes narrowing to thin slits. "I know all about that. I meant that I don't want to see you. What do you want?"

Nexus lifted the sides of his mouth in something that might have been called a smile if it wasn't just too wide and wasn't obviously fake. **"You don't want to see me. Why is that? Is it my face? You don't like it? It's yours. Do you hate the way you look, Evron? You should have more confidence. You are rather handsome. A hero has to have self-confidence, you know. "**

"We're not doing this.", Evron growled," I'm not playing your games. We're not friends anymore. You lied to me for years. You used me as a meat puppet for your entertainment. You took away my powers! I do not like you. If I could, I'd never want to see you again. Now, either leave me alone or tell me what...you...want!"

The mockery of a smile disappeared from Nexus' face. **"As you wish. I am here to inform you that you cannot depart from this reality as of yet."**

The glare Evron leveled at Nexus was powerful enough to send grown men running. "Why?"

 **"It appears that while in the midst of your Redline, you applied a novel and rather forceful method of entering this universe. Due to that, this universe is somewhat unstable. If you attempt to leave this universe using any of your normal methods, such as ripping a small hole in the fabric of reality, you will end up causing this entire reality set to implode. An immediate death sentence for everyone in this universe and others around it. Who would have ever imagined that punching your way into another universe would have such horrible consequences?",** Nexus finished speaking, a grave expression on his face **.**

Evron froze, shocked by the bombshell Nexus dropped on him. Not even a second passed before his glare returned. "Bullshit. Let's say I believe you. I know you. I've seen your memories. You've destroyed trillions of reality sets just because you were bored with them. Why would you suddenly start caring? What do you really want?"

Nexus laughed. Evron flinched as he felt the odd low pitched booming shake his bones and make his teeth chatter. **"You know me so well. I love that about you. You are one of the few in all of existence who knows me that well. I don't care about this universe. It is interesting to me, though. It is one of the rare few that is not connected to me and I have noticed some interesting...entities...in this reality set. Until my influence spreads into every quark of this universe and I grow tired of it, you will not leave. That is, unless you want to become a mass murderer on the multiversal scale."** Nexus flashed him a familiar smirk. He recognized that smirk all too well. It was the same one he gave himself every morning. He knew when he was beaten.

"Fine." His voice was low, the sound of tired resignation evident in his tone. His eyes were downcast as he asked Nexus one last question. "Why can't you just send me back home? I know you can do it."

The smirk on Nexus' face turned into a full-blown smile, a convincing one at that. **"Ev, that's a favor. Friends do each other favors. How could you forget? We're not friends anymore.** "

Evron flinched as he realized his own words were being thrown being back at him. **"And Ev, you were wrong about one thing. I did not murder a trillion realities."** Evron looked up at Nexus' words. **"Add a hundred zeros to that and you'll be a lot closer to the actual number."** With that Nexus disappeared and time returned to normal.

Evron stood in place, internally screaming at the unfairness of everything. Evron **hated** feeling out of control and Nexus always left him with that feeling. He felt the **burning rage** building up in his core. He wasn't anywhere near full strength but he didn't care about wasting energy. He didn't want to temper it. He wanted to let it loose. He needed an outlet. He wanted...no, he needed to **burn a fucker to ashes. He needed to rip a fucker in half.**

"...ere you going, niggers? Come on, we just want to talk." Evron's enhanced hearing picked up a voice a few blocks away.

"Yeah, talk,", he heard another say, "Let's talk about why you shouldn't be in our territory. Let's have a real detailed conversation." Several loud drunken cheers followed that statement.

 **Evron grinned viciously, his teeth sharpening as he began to change. His pupils had already shifted to a bright red and he felt slightly heaver as he gained a visible increase in muscle. Tongues of flame circled his fists and surrounded his head, giving him a fiery halo.**

 **With a roar, he jumped high into the air, trails of flame following him.**

 **He landed in front of a large group of tattooed white men with a crash, creating an impressive crater in the pavement. Behind him stood a buff black kid that reminded him of a small Anton and a younger girl with colorful hair that looked like a dead ringer for Eva in her small form. That didn't matter. He didn't care about that. There were Fuckers to burn. He turned to look at the two, ignoring the growing looks of fear on their faces. "Run", he growled. They obeyed.**

 **The men jumped back. A few pulled out guns and began shooting. The bullets moved lazily in the air towards him. The men were shocked when their bullets disappeared out of the air. They became terrified when he spat the pieces of heated metal at their feet. Two or three ran. He'd find them. He had their scent.**

 **He gave the Neo-Nazis in front of him a vicious razor-toothed grin. "I wonder how white your skin will be after I burn you to a crisp."**

 **The men began to scream. That didn't last long.**

(1 AM)

Greg Veder liked to eat cold pizza late at night. It was his favorite snack just before bed. A cold vegetable pizza and a bottle of orange soda was all he needed to get him to sleep. The mixture frequently gave him nightmares. He had grown used to them. He didn't even mind them anymore. What he was seeing right now in front of his bed was more terrifying than any nightmare the blonde Veder boy had ever experienced. Red eyed, smelling of burnt meat and covered with freshly spilled blood, Evron Grey stood at the foot of his bed.

 **"Hello, Greg. I know you didn't expect so see me again. I didn't expect to see your either. I'm here to make you an offer"** , he said all this in a voice that sounded like he gargled glass every day.

"O-o-o-o-okay", Greg stuttered fearfully. Greg quietly thanked God that he had forgotten to go on PHO to tell people about the new cape after his mom had made him scrub all the floors in the house free of blood. "W-why a-are you covered in fresh blood?"

Evron smiled widely and Greg flinched as he saw more blood _on his incredibly sharp teeth._  
 **"That's not important, Greg."**

Greg disagreed intensely. He felt it was extremely important. He didn't voice his disagreement. He kept his contrary opinions to himself. Greg Veder was many things but he wasn't suicidal.

* * *

 **Read these spoilers only if you want to find out some backstory about Evron and Members of Titanwatch**

 **Evron Daniel Grey Aka Titan.**

Extremely Rich, charismatic, arrogant and playful white teenage boy. Has sadistic and sociopathic/psychopathic tendencies. Suffers from occasional bouts of megalomania and beliefs of godhood. Son of Richard Malcolm Grey and Daniella Grey, brother to Dana Rachel Grey. Grey family possesses transhuman ability to control, manipulate and dominate using voice or physical cues. Grey Family is the Syndicate, a shadowy organization that has controlled the world for over two hundred years. Current head is elder Sister Dana Grey. Both parents are currently dead. Became a Hero at 14 Years Old with best friend Anton Mercer. Chronologically 20 years old, Biologically 17. Lost powers and became a leader of a highly infamous gang of Supervillains at the age of 16. Was murdered eight months later. Brought back by father's scientists. Never stops smiling because "Smiling is the best way to piss people who don't like you off." Due to side effects caused by his former addiction to power granting drugs, he sometimes gets cravings for human flesh. Has Disassociative Personality Disorder based on some of his emotions; Rage, Fear, Pride, Happiness, Sadness, Logic Each Personality has a power-set specific to them. Also has control issues that he attempts to temper.

 **Anton Mercer AKA Atlas**

Evron's best friend since the age of 6 and serves to ground him. 7'9", 2,400 lbs. Anton is a massive, musclebound behemoth with a perfect V-shaped torso, mixed race; Father is white, mother is black. Currently twenty-one years old. Has one younger brother, age 15 and two twin sisters, age 12. All are powered. Anton honestly believes in Truth, Justice, Loyalty, Honesty and other virtues and believes in Personal Responsibility. Has a strong desire to obey authority. He is unaware that his virtues were preprogrammed into him by his is Aaron Mercer, formerly Arthur Michaels AKA Patient Zero; the creator of the Zero Gene and wanted mutant terrorist. Anton and his twin sister Eva, were not born naturally like their other siblings. Created as the perfect and strongest mutant soldiers before their father decided to change his mind, the twins are extremely smart and have knowledge on nearly every martial art. **Powers: Super Strength(Estimated to be roughly in the range of septillions of tons), Super Speed (Limit is Mach 24), Flight(35 million miles an hour) Durability(Immune to all forms of external physical damage. However, can still feel pain from strikes above a certain force. Bones unbreakable as well.) Transforms into a 12 ft wolf at will.**

 **Craig Keller AKA Tech Head**

Evron and Anton's friend for years. 22 years old. Formerly Lazy and and extreme slacker. Widely known as the smartest person on Earth, Craig has created many devices and discoveries that revolutionize life as we know it. Craig assisted Evron and Anton's superhero career for over a year and a half by producing equipment for them to use. He was attacked by the Villain group Mayhem and after ripping off one of his arms and mangling one of his legs, they left him to die. However, Craig survived and rebuilt himself. With a body that is now techno-organic and outfitted with the most advanced weaponry Earth has ever seen, Craig can go toe to toe with some of the strongest in the universe. **Powers: Eidetic Memory, Total Recall, Accelerated Probability, Causality Perception, Accelerated Mental Development, Hypercognition, Accelerated Thought Processes, Detail Intuition, Technokinesis, Parallel Processing, Enhanced Intelligence. Highly skilled in Nanorobotics, Bionic Physiology, Mechanical Augmentation, and Weaponry Design.**

 **Cesar Cortes AKA Mantis**

Friend of both Anton and Evron. Friendly rival to Craig. Best Friend of Alexandre Pistris. Cocky enough to annoy Evron slightly. Loves to crack jokes and shoot large weaponry. Skilled in robotics and vehicle design. **Powers: Any Insectoid Physiology/Transformation, Flight, Enhanced Speed, Enhanced Strength, Danger Sense, Enhanced Metabolism, Adhesive Skin, Limited Insect Control.** **DECEASED.**

 **Alexandre Pistris AKA Megalodon**

Alex is a clone of his father that his father commissioned after his mother gave birth to a daughter and she was stillborn. His father is a mutant with Shark Transformation abilities. Unlike his mutant father, Alex is a transhuman who possessed his abilities from birth. His father is also a cannibal and attempted to raise him to eat meat the same way he does. After his mother protested when she realized what his father was doing, his father killed Alex's mother on Alex's tenth birthday and locked Alex in a cell with his mother's dead body for over over two weeks until Alex finally gave in and ate her rotting corpse to survive. Alex is a withdrawn, quiet guy and a piercing stare. **Powers: Super Strength, Enhanced Speed. Durability. Hydrokinesis. Shark Physiology/Transformation. Electroreception. Enhanced Hearing. Enhanced Smell**

 **Eldritch Rosington-Craven AKA Black Suit AKA Nyarlathotep**

Eldritch Craven was not born naturally. His mother, a beautiful young teenager with mental issues and a love of horror stories, was led away from her privileged environment into a life of drug abuse by her then boyfriend Jackford "Jax" Craven. After she ran away from home, Jax got tired with her and sold her to a group who were looking for young pregnant runaways. She was then brainwashed and her fetus was then altered to create a sick twisted monster for the Church of Health, Prayer and Love to worship. Eldritch was their first success. His birth ended up killing his mother but he absorbed her and slaughtered every cultist and scientist in the facility. El always wears a black suit with black shirt and black sunglasses. His eyes are usually black with no pupils. Sadistic, cannibalistic, predatory, mocking and terrifying are some adjectives that could be used to describe one of Earth's greatest heroes. **Powers: Biological Matter Absorption, Infinite Digestive System, Redundant Physiology, Digestive Assimilation, Immortality, Evolution, Total Shapeshifting, Complete Body Manipulation, DNA Manipulation, Tendril Creation, Tendril Manipulation Enhanced Eating, Dimensional Manipulation, Dimensional Travel, Dream Manipulation, Dream Travel, Shadow Travel, Shadow Manipulation, Teleportation, Invisibility, Illusion Manipulation, Danger Intuition, Enhanced Senses, Imperceptibility, Inaudibility.**

 **Angelo Quinnley AKA Steve**

Steve is the transhuman son of mutant criminal and cult leader Madman; a former comedian who gained powers when his original family died due to him falling asleep at the wheel. White, Very tan. Died at the age of 19. thin but 's power is the ability to get stronger, faster, more agile when He is laughing or People are laughing with him. Is a bipolar manic depressive/has logorrhea(Can't stop talking). Uses swords and a lot of guns. Former villain along with Evron Grey. Obsessed with guns, weaponry and working for Evron. Died with girlfriend Kunoichi taking out his father and the majority of his cult. **Powers: Laughter Empowerment, Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Speed, Enhanced Senses, Enhanced Agility. Skilled in Sword Use, Skilled Sniper, Rapid Regeneration.** **DECEASED.**

 **Luther Holt AKA Equip**

Friend of Evron Grey. Black, killed at the age of 18 by the terrorist group Mayhem. Transhuman with the ability to infuse almost any superpower into items worn on his person after touching someone with the power. Left behind a girlfriend and a newborn son, little brother and mother. **Powers: Power Infusion,** **Suit Up!, Power Suit. DECEASED**

 **Princess La'ia'rai of Khorath AKA Lia AKA Princess**

42 years old, looks 16. Thin, 5"5'. Princess of the Kheran, Liara was worshipped and expected to be a godlike warrior with strength surpassing all others, as all members of the Royal Family were. However, due to the brutal treatment of her vicious, cold-hearted mother, the Queen, and the experience of watching her parents kill each other in front of her, Liara is very kind and gentle, almost pacifistic; something considered anathema by her conflict, power and dominance based society. Liara, as well as all in the multigalactic Korath empire, worship the Existence known on their planet as "The True Burning Star". She believes the same as all Kheran do, that the Existence will one day return to them after finding a host.

After traveling to Earth with her brother to conquer it and find the Existence, she met Evron, realized he was the host of the Existence, and swore subservience to him. After being immediately rejected, she stayed on Earth and Evron began to warm to her. Soon they were dating. They are now engaged. All Kheran possess an ability called Bloodrage that activate when pushed to the limit and enraged. It enhances their strength and speed extremely while limiting their cognitive functions. When in Bloodrage, Liara's blonde hair displays red highlights and displays a split personality that contains the rage, bloodlust, and cruelty her mother taught her.

 **Powers: Super Strength(When Angry, her strength rivals Anton's), Super Speed (When Angry, can reach fractions of Light Speed), Flight, Zirin Projection, Zirin Control. Teleportation. Healing. Resurrection. Biological Manipulation.**

 **Takumi Himura AKA Kunoichi**

Raised as a ninja and trained from the age of 2, Takumi is one of the world's deadliest killers. She literally can't feel fear. Assisted by a thin alien bodysuit, she is leagues above any human in nearly any physical skill. Died with boyfriend Steve. **Powers: Enhanced Agility, Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Speed, Enhanced Flexibility, Enhanced Endurance, Enhanced Durability, Enhanced Dexterity, Enhanced Senses, Memory, Intelligence, Reflexes, Marksmanship, Reflexes, Instincts.** **DECEASED**

 **Dana Rachel Grey Aka Lioness**

Born to Richard and Daniella Grey, she was sent to her aunt at the age of 3 to be raised by her as her daughter after her mother died shortly after giving birth to her little brother. Due to her aunt's inappropriate tendencies, Dana grew up knowing how to manipulate and seduce grown men by the age of 8. She is also a kleptomaniac who cares little for the value of items and is willing to steal costume jewelry if it catches her eye. She hates her father and the last name Grey with a passion but softened to her dad shortly before he died. Very beautiful, she is 5"11' and occasionally models. She is currently dating Anton Mercer. **Powers: Feline Physiology/Transformation, Enhanced Agility, Flexibility, Dexterity, Senses, Reflexes, Strength, Agility, Speed, Endurance.**

 **Eva Mercer AKA Crystal Angel**

Anton's twin sister. Short, spiky, multicolored hair. Loves to change her hair color. Physical powers are much weaker than Anton's due to not being pushed as hard as her brother. **Powers: Adaptive Abilities, Power Creation, Crystalline Wings, Super Strength, Flight** , **Teleportation, Super Speed.**

 **Evron Grey's Powers**

 **Voice naturally makes people agree with, listen and obey him. It is uncontrolled, extremely subtle and immediate. A small offhand sentence can be interpreted as a lifetime order that the person simply carries out by thinking It was their idea. Super Speed (Ranges from Fractions of Light Speed to FTL Time Travel). Super Strength(Roughly in the millions of tons). Flight. Danger Intuition. Enhanced Awareness. Enhanced Vision. Enhanced Reflexes. Extremely Rapid Regeneration . Friction Negation. Highly Durable Bones. Little to No Waste Production. Extreme Stamina. Parallel Processing. Inertia Negation. Zirin Control. Zirin Manipulation. Zirin Absorption. Zirin Projection(Estimated to be in the range of Sexdecillion Megatons). Ability Mimicry. Power Awakening. Teleportation. Dimensional Travel, Dimensional Awareness. Limited Time Manipulation. Resistance to Mental Control. Resistance to Precognition. Limited Shapeshifting. Uncontrolled Reality Warping** , **Uncontrolled Omnikinesis, Potential Omnipotence**

 **Origin Of Evron's Powers and All the Powers In His Universe**

Evron Grey is the host of an extradimensional existence now known as The Nexus that not only exists simultaneously in nearly every reality existence simultaneously but is also the cause of all powers in his universe. The existence was once part of an advanced race of aliens whose only goals were scientific advancement and the genetic manipulation of lesser species for their enjoyment. The existence ,formerly known as Evron, was praised for his intelligence among his people despite being a child in his people's standard's of maturity. In his attempt to create a device that would allow for truly endless energy, he set off a reaction that led to his entire reality being subsumed in an ontological apocalypse. After all was said and done and countless other realities were subsumed and absorbed, the existence awoke with the consciousness of the being formerly known as Evron. After aeons spent doing nothing but thinking and controlling the essentially infinite mass of energy that he now was, he attempted to create life using all the information from the centillions of sapient species he had absorbed.

After recreating the original inhabitants of his universe, the existence began creating things that he had only ever imagined. He gave planets and stars sapience, made an organic being the scale of an entire galaxy, and many others. After all of this, he had become bored again. He wished to be organic again. He created an organic body and found it lacking. He had no emotions. He felt nothing. After many attempts at taking another organics body for himself that met with failure, he came to realize that he was tired of existence. He wanted to die.

The existence spent his next few hundred thousand years in a crystalline form on a planet with some primitive sapients contemplating how best to terminate itself without destroying the universes in which it kept all it's creations. It then left the primitive sapients behind uncaring the fact that it's existence on their planet had given them abilities that could be best defined as godlike and that they had been worshiping him for millennia. It found it's way to Earth, circa 2010. The very act of entering Earth's atmosphere had already enhanced/mutated some of Earth's inhabitants in small ways.

Almost three hundred years later, an infinitesimally small amount of time to it, it found a developing life form being incubated in another mature life form. The incubating life form had a mental structure exactly the same as the Existence's original life form, a side effect of the mutations caused by it's original appearance three hundred years past. The presence of the Existence affected the mother, causing her to give him the name Evron despite not knowing it's origin. It entered the incubating life form and acted as a leech on it's emotions, leaving the child emotionless and sociopathic. The child was then put through a procedure and given intensive medication, causing numerous mental issues later on in life.

The child joined with others and began using the abilities granted to it by the Existence. His host growing stronger every day, the Existence awaits the day that his host will take his place and take it's power, allowing him to fade away without destroying the trillions of realities it had used as a playground. All powers that exist in the Nexus are really just reality warping.


	8. Interlude 1b: PHOCauldron

****

**PHO/Cauldron** ****

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 **Topic: Mystery Cape Speculation  
In: Boards ► World ► Events ► Debates**

 **WildMassGuesser** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie)  
Posted on February 24, 2011:

Shit just got real! Ziz showed up in Canberra. The sky turned red and cracked open. A cape flew out. He and the Simurgh had a staring contest for five minutes then he smacked the shit out of her. He fought her solo because shit happened that fucking fast and he hits like a nuke. The bitch lost her lower half, for fucks sake!

Some more stuff happened. Only 6 Capes died. This is BIG!

If you're not up to speed, head to the **Confirmed Information Thread**.

Video and Stills can be found **here**.

This is the Speculation Thread. Let's speculate, people!

 **(Showing Page 29 of 62)**

 **► EthanH**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
Veritas - How the hell does that make sense? What evidence could there possibly be that this guy is the next Endbringer? He just fought the Simurgh. You saw the video. If you haven't, here. He took 5 steel rods to the body before he teleported away.

 **► Veritas** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
EthanH - I'm not saying for sure that he's an Endbringer. It just seems to fit. He doesn't look fully human.  
Black/red eyes, Black/red veins sticking out everywhere. Skin as pale as the Simurgh's. Hair as white as the Simurgh's. He regenerated faster than the Simurgh. He took a steel rod to the HEART!

 **► EthanH**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
Veritas - "He doesn't look fully human". What sense do you make? Haven't you heard of Case 53's? Also, did you not notice later on in the fight that his hair went mostly black?

 **► The_Darkness** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
EthanH - Veritas makes a really good point. If you gave him wings and took away his clothes, he'd look like the Simurgh's little brother.

 **► Simon_Tama** (Unverified Cape)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
The_Darkness - That's a real scary thought, man.

 **► The_Darkness** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
Simon_Tama - I know, right. Imagine if Leviathan had a little sister.

 **► PlanksFriend94**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
Look, EthanH is right. He had Tinkertech on his arms, legs and chest. He wore clothes. He could talk. Enough with the Endbringer theory.

 **► BoosterBill** (Cape Son)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
PlanksFriend94 - He talked? When did this happen? All I heard was roaring and screaming.

 **► Ironroar** (Verified Cape)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
Look, I don't know if he's an Endbringer or not but I was there. I fought Ziz before the new guy showed up. She stopped everything a good two minutes before the sky turned red and started cracking. She could tell he was coming. He moved real slow to her. They looked like they were communicating when they were looking into each other's eyes. No cape is going to pull the type of shit that guy pulled with the Simurgh.

 **► PlanksFriend94**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
BoosterBill - Yes, he could talk. Remember when he pointed at the Simurgh. He obviously said something.

 **► Winged_One**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
PlanksFriend94 - I think he might have used some offensive language. That's not behavior appropriate for a Hero. Think of the children.

 **► PlanksFriend94**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
Winged_One - Are you making a joke? 'Cause I can't really tell.

 **► Winged_One**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
PlanksFriend94 - I'm being completely serious.

 **► BoosterBill** (Cape Son)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
It sounded like growling to me.

 **► UniverseOfPain**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
I think the Endbringer theory has some merit. We're not really sure what the Endbringers are. They could be aliens.  
The Simurgh could obviously tell someone was coming. She might have been expecting him.

 **► CompletelyInsaneWriter**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
UniverseOfPain - She's the fucking Simurgh, she fucking "expects" everything! Precog's her thing!

 **► Cow and Burger**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
I think he could definitely be an Endbringer. More likely, he's the Simurgh's ex-boyfriend. Did you see the way they stared passionately into each other's eyes before they started ripping each other apart?

 **► Bug-Boy**  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
Why ex-boyfriend? For all we know, fighting and destruction could be the Endbringer version of sex.  
The Simurgh's into some really rough stuff, apparently. She's just a girl that loves to be in control.

User received an infraction for this post.

 **► Tin_Mother** (Moderator)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
That is inappropriate and offensive to those who have suffered because of the Simurgh. More comments like that and you will be suspended.

 **► Ironroar** (Verified Cape)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
Seriously, though, that mystery cape was strong. Every time he hit the Simurgh, there were huge shockwaves.  
I was still in the air at the time and every hit almost knocked me to the ground. It took all my focus not to fall out of the sky.

 **► Simon_Tama** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on February 24, 2011:  
The_Darkness - Levi-tan. That's all I have to say.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **27** **,** **28** **, 29,** **30** **,** **31** **...** **60** **,** **61** **,** **62**

 **Topic: Lung Has A Son? (New Cape)  
In: Boards ► News ► Events ► America ► Brockton Bay**

 **Lurker** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Posted on February 24, 2011:

Okay, I was heading home tonight after some drinks with my friends. I saw a lot of guys who were clearly E88 chasing after a couple of black kids.

I got on my phone to call 911 and then I saw THIS. (Sorry for the shitty quality. My phone's camera really sucks and it was pretty dark.)

I know that Brockton Bay has a lot of capes but do we really need another Pyrokinetic Brute? Especially one this violent? He ripped a couple of guys in half here, people. He burnt another guy's face off.  
Granted they're Nazis, but still. The guy wasn't wearing a mask and I couldn't really make out his face but he was definitely white.  
His voice, if you can't make it out, sounds exactly like Lung's. This is crazy.

 **(Showing Page 22 of 26)**

 **SpecificProtagonist** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
No wonder the gangs won't stop fighting. There was a knife fight yesterday at Winslow and one guy brought a gun. Honestly, I'm glad Shadow Stalker was there. Someone could have gotten killed.

 **► XxVoidCowboyxX**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
This new guy is super awesome. He'd never join Lung, though. The ABB target non-asians in their territory. He'd probably fight Lung and I dont know why but I have a gut feeling that he'd win.

 **► Makai King**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
XxVoidCowboyxX - You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, retard. Lung is the Big Boss Dragon. This fucking matchstick couldn't do shit to him. The entire Protectorate and the E88 can't do shit to him. Lung would show him what real fire is. You better shut your fucking mouth before you get yourself killed.

User received an infraction for this post.

 **► Kaiser** (Moderator)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
I can understand why a mongol like Lung behaves the way he does, but for a new powerful cape of pure blood to be a race traitor is sad. This new cape attacked and killed some of my men. He will pay. Neither Lung nor this upstart are a challenge to the might of the E88. When the time comes, they will both be taken care of.

User received an infraction for this post

 **► Lung** (Verified Cape)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
kaiser - Is that so? We'll see how pure your blood is when it's poured out all over the ground, Kaiser.  
I have no son and the ABB makes clear who it accepts in it's ranks.

User received an infraction for this post.

 **► SithLadySusan** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Someone told me that The Mystery Cape has been spotted around town. Could he be trying to join the Protectorate?

 **► XxVoidCowboyxX**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Makai - Was that a threat? Cause I could kick your ass up and down Brockton Bay. You couldn't touch me.

User has received an infraction for this post.

 **► Makai**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Go fuck yourself, you little shit. You're trying to talk tough on PHO. If you met an ABB, you'd shit yourself. I'd fuck you up.

User has received an infraction for this post. One more time and you will receive a suspension.

 **► XxVoidCowboyxX**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Do you mean you by yourself or your entire gang? I don't even care anymore. If the Mystery Cape is in town, the ABB is next after the E88 goes down.

 **► Makai**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Do you know what a balisong is, faggot? It's a fucking butterfly knife. I'll cut your fucking ass to pieces. I'm ABB, bitch!

User has been suspended.

 **► Tin_Mother (Moderator)**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Makai - I warned you. Enjoy your twenty day suspension.

 **► Tin_Mother (Moderator)**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
XxVoidCowboyxX - I'm watching you. Don't incite others to make threats.

 **(Showing Page 22 of 26)**

 **► Bagrat** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
SithLadySusan - Where did you hear the rumor about Hyperion?

 **► SithLadySusan** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Bagrat - I can't really say. So, Hyperion? The PRT finally gave him a name?

 **► Bagrat** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
SithLadySusan - Yes. My friend in the PRT said it took a while because they kept discussing the powers he showed and wanted to name him around those. They eventually settled on Hyperion.

 **► Laserdream** (Verified Cape)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
The PRT finally named him. Hyperion...I like it. It sounds powerful. Too bad I can't call him Mr. Mystery any more. He is really hot, though. I've been trying to get a glimpse of him the past few days. Glory Girl told me she saw him with white hair again with another cape running super fast down by the Docks. They disappeared when she tried to fly down to them. I wonder if he's planning to stay in BB. :naughty::naughty::naughty:

 **► GloryGirl**  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Laserdream's right. I totally saw Hyperion. It looked like he was training the other cape. I wonder if they're related.

 **► Bagrat** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
This is interesting. Hyperion might be making Brockton Bay his home. That is, if he didn't live here already. And he might have family here. This is good stuff. Thanks, GloryGirl, Laserdream.

 **► EvronGrey** (Unverified Cape) (New Member)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Hyperion...nah. It's a good name but it's not for me. I prefer to be known by my real name. You can all call me Evron. Evron Grey.

 **► Lurker** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
EvronGrey - Is this a joke or are you really the Mystery Cape?  
Cause if you're joking, it's not funny.

 **► EvronGrey** (Unverified Cape) (New Member)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
I'm not joking.

 **► Lurker** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Holy Shit! Hyperion just pulled a New Wave! Sorry, I mean Evron Grey just pulled a New Wave!

 **► GloryGirl** (Verified Cape)  
Replied on March 1, 2011:  
Is this for real?!

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **20** **,** **21** **, 22,** **23** **,** **24** **,** **25** **,** **26**

Alexandria walked through the familiar glowing, rectangular portal and entered a long, white hallway. She walked calmly towards the meeting room and opened the double doors. She was not surprised to see the meeting room already occupied.

The Number Man was there, along with Contessa and Doctor Mother. Eidolon and Legend sat across from the three of them. Sitting next to Legend, she gave her two old friends a nod in greeting and Eidolon returned it while Legend offered a warm smile in return.

"So, we're here to talk about the new parahuman, then? The PRT already named him. Hyperion was what they decided on." she began.

The Doctor nodded slowly. " Yes. We're currently trying to see if his appearance will have any discernible effect on our plans."

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"He has only been a factor for five days. Since we have been aware of his existence, we have had our Thinkers rigorously attempt to glean whatever information they can about him. We accomplished very little other than finding a new way to give Thinkers blinding headaches," remarked Doctor Mother. "So far, one thing we are certain of is that Hyperion is not from this Earth."

The Triumvirate leaned forward almost in unison. Eidolon spoke first. "This Earth?"

Number Man nodded. "Or any Earth within the range of Doormaker or The Clairvoyant."

"How is that possible?", Legend wondered aloud.

"We don't yet know," responded Doctor Mother. "It may be that there are Earths that exist outside of Scion's purview. We currently have no method of testing this theory."

Eidolon glanced towards Contessa who had made no attempt to speak. "And what about you?"

Contessa straightened in her chair and looked at each of them in turn. "My Paths have been...odd since the arrival of Hyperion. All the Paths that I was previously on disappeared. I started them again and most seem to be functional but a few highly important ones have proven to be blind spots to me. I would assume that he is a being like Scion but I found that I am able to take some Paths that involve him but many are blank. It's...perplexing."

Alexandria frowned at that unfortunate piece of information. "So what you're saying is that he is a partial blind spot to your ability."

Contessa frowned as well and nodded curtly.

Doctor Mother chose then to speak. "He has displayed Mover abilities that are worth at least a 8. His strength, durability, regeneration and endurance net him a Brute 9. His energy blasts were capable of completely destroying the Simurgh's lower body. That's never been done before. He was also capable of manipulating his blasts in odd ways. From the footage we received from Dragon, we were able to see that he also was able to channel some form of energy to his fists during the latter part of his fight, so he has some form of Striker rating. Possibly 6 or 7. We should also put him down as a Blaster 10 or 11. He was apparently able to land direct hits on the Simurgh so he might have a power nullifier. He could be a Trump 5 even if his power only worked on Precogs simply due to the fact that it can affect the Simurgh." The Doctor gave a slight cough before continuing. "Does anyone have any relevant information concerning Hyperion?"

Legend shook his head in the negative while Eidolon said nothing.

"Actually, I do. I was on PHO seconds before I left my office," began Alexandria, "I found out that Hyperion's real name is Evron Grey. He released his name on PHO. He apparently has a partner of some sort who possesses Mover abilities."

Eidolon looked directly at Alexandria. "Wonderful,"replied Eidolon, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "We have a very powerful new cape who can fight an Endbringer solo for at least ten minutes and he's loose in a city with the highest concentration of capes in the country and he doesn't give a shit about secret identities. This can't go horribly wrong at all, right?"

Alexandria shot him a glare.

"This might not be that bad, everyone," Legend replied, "I mean, we know he's powerful. He did fight an Endbringer solo and do more damage than anyone has done bar Scion. He might be willing to work with us. Another bonus, the Simurgh most likely might not be able to affect him considering that she was struggling against him."

Alexandria gave a small smile after hearing Legend's point of view. "You're right. And besides, even if he is a villain, he didn't display anything we can't handle if we work together. We are the Triumvirate after all." She emphasized her statement by bringing her hand down on the highly reinforced table.

Doctor Mother chose that moment to interject. "Actually, there is one problem."

"What is it?", Eidolon asked, already expecting the worst.

The dark skinned Doctor steepled her hands on her chest. "A Thinker belonging to Cauldron, Triage, was at the Simurgh attack performing triage alongside the Healers. If you couldn't determine by her name, she has the ability to determine how healthy or ill a person is. She informed me earlier today that Evron Grey was already on his last legs before the Simurgh fight started. In her own words, his body was already recovering from a massive fight and he hadn't slept or eaten in weeks. In other words, he fought the Simurgh when he was already half-dead," she concluded gravely.

The Triumvirate were left speechless by the bombshell Doctor Mother dropped on them.

Legend then summed up their respective feelings in two words.

"Well...shit."


	9. Introductions 1-5

**Introductions 1.5**

Gregory Veder ran through the through the abandoned areas of the Docks, his breathing heavy and his brow dripping with sweat. His limbs ached, weighed down by the silver gloves and boots he wore that distinctly resembled Tinkertech. He was very glad that it was still light out. In this area of the Docks, gang members rarely appeared until well into the night and he had no intention of being slowed down by a wannabe mugger. He had something hidden away to deal with them but he could not afford to be slowed down, not right now.

Greg had been running at this pace for well over two hours, longer and farther than he had ever ran in his entire life. If this was merely for the sake of exercise, he would have slowed to a jog or even a walk in an attempt to get a second wind. Instead, he increased his pace, ignoring the pain that shot through his legs and chest, forcing his body past his human limits. He was terrified that slowing down would allow his relentless pursuer, who was still on his trail after more than two hours, to finally pounce on him like the prey he felt like right now.

He glanced nervously around, unable to see any sign of his hunter. However, that only made him increase his speed further. 'If I can't see him,' thought a frantic Greg, 'that means he could be anywhere.' Greg gasped for breath but he simply balled his fists, unwilling to be caught. Greg dug deeper and kept pushing, sure that he would greatly regret if he didn't.

Greg struggled to keep running and he increased his speed further, despite the fact that he felt like lying on the ground and not getting up for a week. 'Keep going...don't stop...keep...going...Shit!'

Greg noticed a shadow directly under him that was distinctly separate from his and whipped his head upwards, not slowing his pace down in the least. "Not catching me...". Greg ducked into an alley and, with a single leap, cleared a chain link fence nearly twice his height. He ran into another wider alley and vaulted a large dumpster someone had foolishly placed in the center of the alley. If this area had actually been filled with anyone other than a single sleeping homeless man, Greg might have been ashamed to be seen in his current attire. Dressed in nothing more than white sneakers with long white socks, a tight white T-shirt and red shorts that could only be described as nut-huggers, he looked exactly like a middle-aged gym teacher. In other word, ridiculous.

Greg reached the end of the alley and found himself blocked off by a group of warehouses that someone apparently thought it was a good idea to build so close together. With a muttered expletive, Greg turned around and prepared to head back the same way he came. As soon as he entered the alley again, his eyes widened in shock as he noticed the dumpster from earlier flying directly at him.

With an attempted backflip that began rather gracefully but immediately turned into a painful and uncontrolled tumble, he avoided the trash receptacle that quickly found itself embedded into a warehouse wall. Greg winced as he saw the dumpster crumple against the side of the wall but he had no time to waste. He scrambled up and immediately tried to run, only to freeze as he he heard his name.

"Gregory, you were rather disappointing," began the voice. It sounded distorted and hard to track, as if it was coming from everywhere at the same time. "I thought you would last longer than you did."

Greg goggled. "I've been running as fast I can for two freakin' hours," whined Greg.  
"You're a horrible teacher, boss."

The voice laughed and Evron appeared several meters in the air , hair white as snow and blue eyes shining playfully. He wore his blue and black hoodie with a black shirt underneath as well as his black and blue pants and boots. His normal Tinkertech limb devices were currently on Greg's person. All he wore on each wrist was a thick silver manacle. Around his neck, his jeweled choker was no longer there. "Seriously, Greg, you're doing better. Do you know how fast you were going?"

Greg shook his head, trying to relax his breathing enough to get his second wind.

"You kept a pace of almost fifty miles an hour for over two hours, Greg. We started at your house. You kept taking back alleys and backtracking several times to try to stay out of my sight. All in all, you ran about ninety miles, Greg." Evron beamed down at Greg, a wide and approving smile on his face.

Greg's jaw hung open. "Ninety...ninety...miles?" He couldn't believe it.

Evron nodded. "Your personal best. Not bad for your third week with powers, huh? Without the power limiters,"he paused, gesturing to the devices Greg wore, "you could probably run at about a hundred miles an hour."

Greg just stared, mouth agape and his tiredness forgotten. 'A hundred? I'm fast...'

Evron dropped to the ground until he was only a few meters away from Greg. "You did good today, Greg. But...we're not done yet."

Greg furrowed his eyebrows, his confusion visible. "We're not?" In the three weeks since they had started this, Evron had focused on endurance and speed training, neglecting Greg's other abilities because, in Evron's words, "What's the point of having flashy powers if you're slow and weak?"

Evron's warm smile turned positively vicious. " **DODGE!"**

There was no warning. No warning at all.

Except the extremely loud shout of " **DODGE!"**.

But other than that, none at all.

Before he could even process the word, the massive blow struck Greg directly in the chest, knocking all the wind out of him and sending him flying backwards into the concrete wall of the warehouse behind him. ' I didn't even see him move.' The world seemed to slow down for him and he began to think back to exactly how he had gotten to this moment.

(Three weeks ago)

Greg sat in his bed staring at Evron who had just asked something he could only describe as incredible. The question was so shocking that he forgot that less than two minutes ago, Evron had appeared in his room, covered in blood and smelling of burnt meat. It was so mindblowing that Greg only had one thing to say. "What?"

Evron, who had already transformed back to normal, restated the question calmly and slowly as if speaking to a child.

"Greg, do you want me to give you superpowers?"

The question hung in the air unanswered for all of two seconds..

"Y-you can give powers?"

Evron nodded, a smile on his face. He already had Greg, and both of them knew it.

Greg continued. "Really? You can make someone trigger?"

"Trigger...heh. Where I'm from, we call it Evolving. Yes, I can give you powers."

"No side effects? What powers can I get?"

Evron shook his head. "None that I can't fix and your powerset depends on your subconscious."

"So you just want to give me powers out of the goodness of your own heart and you don't have any...uh...ulterior motivation?" Greg replied skeptically.

Evron shrugged, a smirk still on his face. "Well, I do have an ulterior motive. I mean, come on, why else would I just offer you powers?"

Greg nodded. "So what do you want from me?"

Evron leaned forward until he was less than an arms length from Greg. "I want your help to take over the world."

Greg's expression could only be described as dumbfounded. "Huh?"

"See, when I landed on your Earth, I showed up in the middle of this big monster fight. This angel thing called the Simurgh or Ziz, or whatever, was trying to fight me. I was really beat up already 'cause I just finished a massive battle but I can't leave when people are getting killed by giant monsters. I mean, really, it's in my job description. I can't not do it without my approval rating going down, anyway. All the other heroes were hiding for some reason so I fought the angel lady by myself and tried to kill her. I hit her a few times and blasted her in half but I was trying to save energy and ended up underestimating the bitch and...then you found me."

Greg gaped. "Ho- wha- he- you- whe-...Simurgh?!", Greg questioned/screamed.

Evron slapped a hand over Greg's open mouth and shot him a glare. "Shut up! It's one in the morning. People are asleep...like your mom," hissed Evron. Evron paused for a few seconds. "Okay, she's still sleeping. Go ahead." He removed his hand as Greg nodded his understanding. "And yes, the Simurgh. That bitch is a tricky Precog. Normally, when I use...certain abilities of my power, I'm blank to them but that obviously didn't affect her."

'He fought the Simurgh...by himself. How tough is this guy? Wait...he fought the Simurgh by himself?!' Greg jumped up on his bed as he came to a realization and raised a fist. "Stay back...,"Greg whispered, his voice wavering.

Evron sighed again. "What is it now?"

Greg gulped, fat droplets of sweat rolling down his face. "Y- y- you fought the Simurgh..."

"Yes..."

"...by yourself?," questioned Greg.

"Why do I feel like we've gone over this already? Yes!"

Greg backed up a few steps on his bed until his back hit the headboard. His breathing became heavy and rather ragged. "Y-y-you're Simurgh affected."

A confused expression passed over Evron's face until he realized what Greg was talking about. "Oh, you mean one of her mental time bombs? No, I'm immune to mind control."

"Really?"

Evron nodded confidently. "You can't get anywhere high in society, politics, business, whatever, in my universe without making sure you're either naturally immune or you've gotten psi-blocker implants." He tapped his left temple for emphasis. "This is locked down tight. Honestly, if i really wanted to kill you, why would I offer you powers first?"

Greg gave a sigh of relief but still stared at Evron with clear suspicion. "That's...good, I guess, but why do you want to...take over the world? That's bad."

"As I was saying before you screamed like a girl, I fought the Simurgh and I almost beat her. I was on my last legs the whole time and nobody else seemed to be helping. Which, now that I think about it, was smart. You did not want to be in the middle of that. I wasn't paying attention to what I hit. She didn't care what she hit. Anyway, after I left your house, I looked up all the problems Earth Bet has to deal with and then I had a...conversation with someone and they gave me a good reason not to leave just yet. Your world is really shitty, Greg."

"No, it's not! I mean..." Greg paused as he began to think.

"My world wasn't perfect. There was prejudice and racism toward metas and mutants. We had giant monsters. We've had them for centuries. We either killed them or kept them under control. We had supervillains. We had at least 10 different prisons for Metas, just in the US. We had ways to handle things. We had a secret organization that kept people calm and stopped them from losing their shit. We had fixed global warming. Your world doesn't seem to have any of what mine had. The way I see it, your world's going to end in twenty-five years, thirty at the most. If these Endbringers don't leave you unable to recover, your Triumvirate will end up dying to some powerful super or team that wants to make a name for themselves and people will lose their shit. Villains will think they're free to do whatever."

Greg simply stared at Evron, mouth slightly open.

"Trust me, Greg. Look...my world had issues. There was a global, what's the word, uprising a few decades after people started getting powers. Mutants and their supporters against the bigots who hated mutants. A lot of places were not prepared for superhuman warfare. The British Empire survived because the Royal Family went against most of Parliament and supported mutants. Most of Africa fell to warlords. India, well...India's India. Japan's thriving, though. They embraced mutants like crazy. The US survived because they actually gave mutants their rights...mostly.

When me and my friends became Titanwatch, we were literally the strongest supers in the world. Then shit went south and certain people in high positions decided I needed to go. They framed me and my friends as working with criminals and terrorists and made us Public Enemy #1 worldwide. They froze my accounts. My business was taken from me. They tried to arrest our families. Any Blank or Super that was friendly with us or working for Titanwatch was considered a terrorist. We...took offense to that. While we were on the run, we somehow ended up in control of several small war-torn countries. Other countries took offense to that and eventually, after a lot of crazy shit happened, only a few countries were left. They joined us willingly."

Greg didn't know how to deal with this. He was talking to someone powerful to take over an entire Earth. An Earth that had had capes for over three hundred years. Even without the capes, three hundred years was a long time. There had to be some bullshit Tinkertech designed since then. Fuck, it was three hundred years, there had to be some bullshit regular tech too. Greg dropped himself on the side of his bed and looked up at Evron. "But...taking over the world. Isn't that...kinda...you know, evil?"

Evron sat next to the blonde and placed an arm on Greg's shoulder. "Greg, when I ended up taking over my Earth, I didn't do it because I wanted to rule. I did it because I saw what was going to happen if I didn't. Look, my world had a great infrastructure. It had three hundred years to build it. Yours is crumbling. This world needs us. We can build that infrastructure, Greg. This world doesn't have to end. Look, I don't want to rule. I'm not going to rule."

"You don't? You're not?" Greg replied slowly, his mind racing in an attempt to deal with the bombshells being dropped on him.

Evron gave him a beaming, confident smile and stood up, taking a few steps away from Greg's bed. "Of course not, man. This is not my universe. I can't stay here forever. I want to give you powers. I want to make you so strong that by the time I leave, no one on this Earth could possibly challenge you. No one. Not the Protectorate, Not the Triumvirate, not the Endbringers, not even Scion. Do you want to rule the world, Greg? Do you want to make sure this world is safe? Do you never, ever want to feel weak and useless again? Gregory Veder, do you want powers?"

Greg stood up immediately and looked Evron directly in the eyes. "Do it."

Evron's smile, if possible, grew even wider and his metal Tinkertech gauntlets fell off and hovered next to his arms. He took a step forward and his boots parted, staying rooted to the floor while he walked forward. His hair went from a single skunk stripe to complete snow white and his eyes glowed a bright blue. He unhooked the blue studded choker from around his neck and dropped it into a pocket. Greg leaned over and looked at the Tinkertech Evron left behind.

"Don't mind those. They're just power limiters. Safeguards, really. I need to be at full power and in full control for this."  
Evron stretched a hand out and his forefinger began to glow the same shade of blue. His hair began to blow in an invisible wind and Greg felt an unnatural pressure weighing down on him.  
Evron's hand moved closer until it almost reached Greg's forehead and- "Wait!"

Evron's hand did not move nor did he stop glowing as he gave Greg a look of intense frustration. "What is it now, Veder?"

Greg gave him a familiar awkward smile. "You sure you can't control what powers you give?"

"I told you. It depends on what you really want." He moved his finger closer and almost touched Greg's forehead. "Ready?"

"Yes. I'm ready." The last thought Greg had before Evron's finger touched his brow was 'I want to be like you.'

No time. No location. No thought.

Whiteness. An unending expanse on the flat ground spread out **FOREVER.** The sky above was black, an infinite thick, tar-like, black spread.

Evron is here. Where? Up. Down. What is up? What is down? He exists. He is everything.

 **"Hello, Greg. No, don't bother answering. You can't even process what you're seeing properly, how sad. Only my voice, and barely that. We're outside reality, Greg. All realities. You might wonder why I brought you here. You won't even remember this after we're done but I'm a bit of a showoff. Blame Evron. He taught me all my bad habits. You want to be just like Evron, don't you? He must seem so impressive. A confident little godling with all his impressive tales of heroics to regale you with. The first powered being you ever met. I can make you EXACTLY like him. Do you want that?"**

A pause.

 **"You can't answer, silly me. It must be horrible being so pitiful. I can't believe that's what I want. Thank you for listening to me, Greg. You had no choice, but still. You're gonna help me a lot, Greg. Have fun. And don't die."**

He woke up to the bright sunlight shining from a window.

He yawned and lifted his head from his pillow, blinking in an attempt to clear his vision. All of a sudden, the memories from last night hit him like a sledgehammer and he jumped up and looked quickly around, hoping it wasn't a dream. His fears were calmed as he saw Evron smiling at him while seated in his revolving desk chair. "How do you feel, Greg?"

Greg froze as he realized how he felt. Pure, raging fire filled his veins and he basked in the overflowing sense of amazing, vibrant energy that rushed through him. Everything was so clear, so colorful. He could hear so well, smell so crisply. His mind was racing. He felt like he could do anything. He felt **POWERFUL.**

He flexed his muscles and stared at Evron. **"** Fucking Awesome!"

Every day since then, Evron would work with him on his speed and agility after school. He had told his mom that he was going out running and occasionally going to a gym, to her extreme surprise. He wasn't even lying. Sometimes, they would practice freerunning. Other days, they would test his speed over long distances and occasionally, they would practice wall-running and occasionally flipping. He still needed to work on that. In fact, that would come in handy right now.

With a slight flourish, Greg flipped in midair and kicked off the wall, landing on the paved ground without much trouble. A quiet crackle of a sole on gravel was the only warning he got before Evron suddenly appeared in his face with a hard right.

The strike slammed Greg face first into the ground and left a small depression where his face was. He rolled over on his back and stared upwards at a smirking Evron. 'Cocky bastard. Shit, I'm glad these limiters only drain my speed and strength and not my durability or I'd be done for. I'm probably going to be black and blue all over when I get home.'

He was brought out from his thoughts by Evron's voice. "Well, you gonna get up or are you giving up?"

The inclination to give in passed through Greg's mind before he waved it away. "Hell, no. I'm gonna kick your ass!", he said, despite the fact that his ass was still firmly on the ground.

Evron laughed. "You can try. You suck at dodging. I literally told you what to do. It's not like I yelled out 'Dance!'"

Greg took offense to that. "Did you ever think that yelling out dodge makes it hard for the person to focus on dodging?!"

"You might have a point...but you still suck at dodging."

Greg flipped back and landed on his feet. "Nia, knives." The devices on his wrist beeped and two thick butcher knives slid out of the silvery metal gauntlets into his awaiting palms. The edges of the knives began to glow a bright gold and Greg leapt forward.

He slashed and stabbed and made every attempt to cut Evron open all the while moving fast enough to outpace the average car. Evron blocked every single one of his strikes with a single finger from his left hand, as if not even trying. Greg's legs were not idle throughout his attempt to perforate his white-haired sensei. At least one foot was engaged in a flurry of kicks every moment he felt he had an opening. Those all missed their target even though he didn't seem to this to be moving.

"How are you doing this?" Greg growled as he attempted to slash Evron's jugular only to be blocked by the bastard's fucking pinky.

"I'm better than you," Evron shot back with the utter smugness of someone who felt he was always right.

"You're a horrible person," replied Greg, in the middle of stabbing Evron in the eyes.

"I've been informed of that," responded the smug bastard. With a small movement of his left hand, he knocked the knives out of Greg's hands and they cut deeply through the paved ground like...knives through butter. "Use your blades, young Veder," he said in what was actually a rather good impersonation of some ancient Chinese master.

Greg scowled playfully at him and closed his eyes, balled his fists and began to focus. After almost thirty seconds, two wide, six-inch long, gold, spade-like energy blades grew from Greg's balled fists. Greg opened his eyes and stared them. They appeared rather blunt and but he and Evron had tested them on boats at the Ship Graveyard. They sliced through without any resistance. "Finally. It only took like half a minute this time."

Evron snickered. "Yeah, thirty seconds in a fight where the other guy's not going to be waiting patiently for you to grow your energy blades. Let's do this, Greg."

Evron held his hand up and dozens of blue, baseball-sized energy balls appeared above it. "Let's play dodgeball." A smile that Greg could familiarly describe as vicious appeared on his face.

"Fuck me with a rusty fuck-stick," muttered Greg.

The barrage of balls shot at him moving at least twenty miles an hour and Greg slashed at them with his golden energy blades. Several were batted away and dissipated, a few were cut in half but most struck Greg all over, feeling exactly like baseballs on his toughened skin. Eventually, the bombardment ended and Greg asked the question he'd been waiting to ask. "Can we go home for a break now? My mom's working tonight. We'll have all night to practice. She made spaghetti, too." , he added as an afterthought. Evron loved to eat.

"Ehhhh...I just don't knooooowwww...maybe..."Evron continued to make a show of thinking about it while Greg prayed silently behind him. "Fine, if you're gonna whine about it."

Greg raised an arm half-heartedly. "Yay."

"But first..."

"Nay..."

"Man up, Greg. Let me see how strong your blasts have gotten."

"Fine." Greg may have acted tired but he really did love firing off his energy blasts. They were so fun. He wasn't very skilled and they felt like baby tickles at a farther range than two feet away, 7 feet with the limiters off, but he loved them. With a mild grunt, Greg channeled the energy he had in his body, Zirin is what Evron had called it, to his hands and pushed it out. Twin golden beams as wide as Greg's arms shot from his hands and impacted the wall of an abandoned warehouse, three feet away.

The golden lights tore through the wall with no resistance at all, utterly destroying the section of wall it came in contact with. The golden death beam continued until it hit the next wall and simply splashed against it, refusing to go any further despite how much energy Greg pushed into it. Greg stopped channeling his Zirin and let the fire in his veins calm down before turning to face Evron.

Evron smiled. "At least your range has gotten a little longer. That's at least three and a half feet with the limiters on."

"Can we go now?" Greg whined, sounding more like a six year old than the sixteen year old he was.

"Let's go, Greg." Evron began to walk out of the warehouse docking area, Greg a bit behind.. " Wait, one more thing..."

Greg paused. "What?"

"Dodge!"

"AAAHHH!" Greg cried out as he was slammed back into a warehouse wall by an unseen force.

"Hahahahahahaha! Learn to dodge, man!"

"Goddamn it! Evron!"


	10. Interlude 1c: Evron Grey

**Interlude 1c**

 **Evron Grey**

The dictionary defines evil as something or someone that is profoundly immoral, wicked, depraved, corrupt, degenerate, harmful or undesirable. An evil person seeks to harm others for it's own enjoyment. An evil person is malevolent towards others and does not care for their suffering. An evil person destroys the lives of others without regard for their well-being.

I am Evron Grey and I am evil.

Less than ten hours ago, I attacked a group of drunk gang members attempting to kill two black teens. I beat them bloody. I burnt others. A few unlucky ones ended up torn apart. A normal person...a **good** person would feel at least a shred of regret. Those men probably had families. I know one had a daughter. He told me about her while he begged me not to kill him. I couldn't really understand him through his tears but I'm pretty sure I understood what he meant to say. He thought it would make me show him mercy. He was right. I didn't kill him. The burns I gave him were punishment enough. Fun fact, Do you know humans taste like pork? I did, but apparently I forgot. Funny how small things like that can slip your mind.

I was still covered in their blood. Thankfully, it had dried off. I doubt Greg would be happy if I sat on his desk chair while covered in the blood of Nazis.  
I wasn't even angry at them. I was mad at Nexus, the smug bastard...and I expressed that rage on targets that made themselves available.

I watched as Greg slept, unaware of my vigil. I didn't need to sleep anymore. I didn't need to eat. I didn't need to breathe. I was no longer human. If anything, I was closer to whatever type of being that Nexus was and I hated it. I did not regret the power it gave me. I hated what it had turned me into. I

I had told Greg that I wanted to help him save his world. I had lied to him. I cared about his world less than Nexus did meaning I could not care less if it exploded right now. There were infinite iterations of just this version of Greg's Earth. I did not want anything to do with this Earth. What I wanted was Greg.

It wasn't a sexual thing. I had a fiance. Even if I was attracted to men, I think I could do better than Greg. I needed Greg to keep me human. I had been surrounded by my friends for years. Most of them never realized that I never created Titanwatch to protect the world. I did it so they could protect the world from me. Only Anton and my Lia; beautiful, wonderful, Lia, knew how I really felt. They had been there to ground me, to keep me stable. I had changed when I had become what I was now.

As a human, I had Dissociative Identity Disorder and I had to deal with that along with the joy of growing up with Nexus in my head. After I had died and come back roughly a year later with my body irrevocably altered, Ascended being the term Nexus used, my Identities were no longer fragmented but had merged with me. At any provocation, I could be on a **roaring rampage**. At the smallest compliment, I could be preening myself in **vanity**. When pushed to far, I would make rather **brutal** choices.

I didn't want that. I wanted to be good for the sake of being good, like Paragon or Exemplar. It's ironic that I killed all the male heroes that I looked up to but things are funny that way. The only one left that I looked up to was Anton and he was my best friend. I missed my old self so much. If I could describe myself now, I'd say that I lacked humanity. My friends didn't realize that. They just thought I was harsher and more sadistic because of the fact that I died but that wasn't the whole truth. The normal inhibitions I used to have were gone. I could control my reactions but I no longer felt the desire to. Why should I lower myself to limit my behavior for simple humans? I was above that.

That! That right there. It was those types of thoughts that made me realize I needed Greg. He reminded me so much of my friends. He was just as awkward as Aren. If Greg wore glasses and had brown hair, I could swear that they were twins. It was people like Aren who I lived for. My friends were what grounded me. When I was around them, I was whole...calm...at peace. My thoughts were more focused. I was no longer controlled by my whims. I focused on the well-being of others...of them, rather than my own sadistic, prideful impulses. God, I wish I was as good as I pretended to be. I was a monster, no doubt about it. But I was a monster on a leash, much like Eldritch, now that I think about it. And like Eldritch, our friends kept us fro turning into unrecognizable, unstoppable monsters.

I had to make Greg need me. He had to be my friend. The main reason I Evolved him from human to metahuman because I knew he had to see me on some level as an equal. Greg liked me already but I could tell It was simple admiration Hero worship wasn't enough. That wasn't friendship. It would fade eventually. I could simply compel him to be my friend but that wouldn't be fair. I needed a friend who knew me as me. A friend that could keep me stable.

I didn't care what Greg did with this world after we took over. He could rule it like a king or he could simply leave with me and join me on Earth Grey. I didn't care. I knew when Greg would truly be a lifelong friend. It was one of my powers. One of my natural powers, not simply an offshoot of being whatever Nexus was. I could already feel the bond between us. If I wanted to, I could control his thought patterns without even trying, sculpting the path he would take for the rest of his life with a stray sentence. I didn't, of course. I could never _willingly_ **compel** a friend. The moment I no longer had the ability to mold Greg's thought pattern, I would know we were friends till death. Until then, I would wait, doing my best to be the best friend he had ever had and will ever have.

What time is it? Huh...already 7:00. Greg's mom had left for work just thirty minutes ago. She had poked her head in the door to check on him and left just as quickly. Golden blonde hair down to her shoulders, glasses, and a slightly chubby frame. She was actually rather pretty. Then again, I always did like blondes.

A beam of sunlight from his window hits Greg's face and he begins to twitch. I sit up slowly and stare at him with renewed focus. I expected the process to knock him out for some time. I simply expected him to wake up much earlier. He opens his eyes and I see the gold light shining behind them, signifying the power he is still unaware of. He stood up and I spoke.

"How do you feel, Greg?"

I see him close his eyes and take a deep breath, a golden aura flaring around him for a single second before disappearing. Greg was silent for a time, enjoying the energizing burn of his new power. I watched as the Zirin in his bloodstream rushed through his body, energizing every cell and optimizing his body. He was weak now but I'd make him unstoppable.

"Fucking awesome!"

Greg was happy. That was good. I felt the unbridled joy coming from him and I was at peace. I would do everything in my power to make sure that as long as I was on this Earth, I wouldn't let myself lose control. Not to my **rage** **,** not to my **pride** , not to my **logic** , not to my **happiness** , and certainly not to my own **darkness** **.**


	11. Interlude 2a: Titanwatch

**Interlude 2a**

 **Titanwatch Interlude**

Washington, DC

Nina Mores looked up at the fifty-story skyscraper in front of her, tiny butterflies in her stomach. She had not been at work in days. Ever since the news had hit the planet that the young self-declared High Councillor of Earth's new world government had disappeared while off-planet fighting against a preemptive invasion of Earth, just a week ago today, the world was in an uproar.

Many people on Earth and a large number of superhumans viewed him as an unbelievable god-like figure. The thought that he could be gone had caused riots as people feared the problems of the past would rear their unwanted heads again. It had taken Atlas visiting many places worldwide before they calmed down. High Councillor Grey may have been their leader but Atlas was their hero. His presence was all that was necessary to calm any hotheads. Nina glanced around as hundreds of other people made their way inside the tall headquarters of the Titanwatch Organization. It was terrifying knowing that Titan was missing. He was what had held the world together during the horrors the world had faced just a few short years ago. Governments had fallen but Titanwatch had risen, acting as the world's government and setting up small local governments worldwide. The day the High Councillor had dissapeared, Titanwatch had informed all non-essential personnel at the Head DC office that they were on paid leave and not to report to Titanwatch HQ until given clearance. That clearance had been given the night before.

Gathering her confidence, Nina entered the building and made her way past security until she made her way to the Director's private elevator. As she made her way to the top floor, she began to think about the various oddities that made her job what it was.

Despite the fact that she only reported to the Chief Director himself, Nina was just a simple secretary. Twenty-six years old and a graduate from an average college, she was an absolute nobody. She had no real skills and no real ability. She wasn't even an official agent of Titanwatch. She had only been working for Mr. Ford for a month and all she had done was get coffee and snacks for her boss and occasionally listen to him rant about whatever idiot was making his job harder. She was well aware that unlike other employees and agents of Titanwatch, she did nothing at all important and got paid rather well for it.

Nina was also aware that she was hired for her looks above all. She never tried to delude herself for it. Honestly, she didn't even think she was that pretty. Her hair was a light brown with only the slightest bit of life to it and her face was slightly better than average, which wasn't saying much. The only thing she knew she excelled in was her bust and she made sure to emphasize it every time her boss was around.

Mr. Ford was known for going through a lot of secretaries, all of them pretty, young and well endowed. He had only had this job for two years and she was the thirteenth secretary already. As she walked down the silvery walls of the top floor of Titanwatch HQ, large datapad in hand, she unzipped her top until she was sure plenty of flesh was visible and hiked up her already rather short black skirt. She didn't know why the other secretaries lost their positions but she was not going to lose this cushy job over something as small as her dignity.

As Nina reached the dark, tinted glass of her boss's door, she placed her hand on it and felt the familiar heat as it scanned her biometrics. A seam appeared in the side of the door and she pushed it open. She took a deep breath in an attempt to make her chest even more impressive but quickly let it out in a strangled cough as she realized just who was standing in front of her.

Seven feet and six inches of massive, firm, brown-toned muscle stood in her way, dwarfing her small frame.. She stepped back and gave the figure a closer look. It was a man, obviously. A man dressed in a sleeveless formfitting red, white and blue one piece made out of the same skin-tight, ultra fine, mesh-like bulletproof fabric all high level Titanwatch agents had. Silver manacle were worn on his arms that matched his silver belt. Across his shoulders was a voluminous red and white cape and emblazoned on his chest was a bright white compass with red accents.

Nina froze as she realized who stood in front of her.

His confident, booming voice broke her from her stupor. "Miss, are you all right? Miss? Miss?"

She blinked a few times and forced herself to stop staring at the way his extremely defined muscles rippled visibly under his costume. "Huh...uh...uh...yeah." 'Stop looking! It's creepy!' "I'm...uh...you...you...y-you're Atlas...THE Atlas?"

Atlas smiled at her in a way that honestly made her weak at the knees but before he could answer, someone else spoke first.

"Of course he's THE Atlas. Who else would be as tall, dark and handsome as my hubby here?," spoke a smooth, seductive voice. A woman's figure strutted out from behind Atlas and Nina was dumbstruck again. Long platinum blonde hair, full lips turned up in a confident smile, sharp blue eyes, and wearing a black bustier that showed off her assets and black pants, both made of Titanwatch fibers. The heroine that stood in front of her was Dana Grey; also known as Lioness, wife of Atlas, hero of Titanwatch and sister to High Councillor Grey, as well as being a Councillor herself. "I assume you're here for a reason?"

Nina gaped before catching herself. "Y-y...yeah, I mean, yes, ma'am. I'm here to...uh...," Again her mind hit a blank, leaving her looking like an idiot in front of two of the world's greatest heroes.

"She's here to see me," spoke the voice of her boss, Titanwatch Director, Aren Ford. Nina stepped past the two heroes and froze again. "She is my secretary, after all. Stop harassing her when she's just trying to do her job."

Nina loved working for her boss. He was a handsome, bespectacled twenty-year old who held one of the most powerful positions in the world and he wasn't an arrogant douche about it. Normally, she would be trying her best not to blush every morning when he would compliment her outfit. Today, he seemed to be doing her best to leave her stupefied. She had just spoken to two of the world's most famous heroes and in front of her, spread around the Director's white office, were four more of them.

Nina stood stock still and everyone in the room watched as her facial expressions seemed to go from excited to mortified to awestruck and terrified and back again. She had only been Director Ford's secretary for a month and she was already meeting the Alphas of Titanwatch. Every single person in here ran a facet of the World Government. It was all she could do not to faint. As it was, she did stumble a bit.

Aren sighed and stood up from behind his desk, dusting off his completely white suit as he did so and straightening his glasses. "Ms. Morse, why don't you go and get us a few boxes of donuts? Take your time."

Nina nodded shakily and tried to respond only to emit a squeak. She slapped a hand over her mouth and backed out of the room slowly, eyes never leaving the heroes.  
As soon as the tinted black door shut behind her, Aren looked up at his stark white ceiling. "We're starting immediately, Eldritch. Stop hiding and get down here right now." His voice was firm and rather stern, like a parent talking to a child.

The white ceiling began to ripple like a pond as a small black spot of what looked like tar appeared in the center and began to bubble and shift, spreading downwards like a stalactite. After a few seconds, the tar-like substance had stopped shifting. In it's place was a young man with short, spiky, black hair dressed in a black suit and round black glasses standing on the ceiling as if it was child's play. He dropped to the ground with barely a sound and gave Aren a rather wide smile. "That was your new secretary, Aren. She's certainly...bouncy."

Aren affixed him with a glare. "Eld, stop it. I like her. Don't mess with this one. I can't afford to keep firing secretaries because they start cracking under the pressure."

El's smile stretched even wider until it reached the side of his eyes, showing off his sparkling white set of razor sharp teeth. "Of course. I wouldn't dare mess with her. After all, it's none of my business if you meet someone new. You're not the only one who likes girls."

Craig's glare increased in intensity. "I'm serious. Don't go into her dreams. Don't follow her around and don't hide in her shadow."

"Alright, alright. Why don't you declare all fun illegal?"

Aren continued to stare at El until he dropped his smile. "Okay...We're here for one reason and one reason only." He paused and turned his head, glancing at all the people in his office. "We need to find Evron...immediately. People are terrified. Anything that could take out Evron has them freaked. Craig, any luck?" Aren's eyes went to his couch where a figure was lying face up.

Craig was a rather thin guy with long, shaggy brown hair. He wore a blue muscle shirt and blue jeans. The only sign that he wasn't human was the fact that his eyes were black with green pupils and that his arms were unproportionally large for his body and had what looked like paneling running up and down them. He sat up and leaned back on the couch, hands crossed behind his head. "Well...from all the data that I've compiled from my scanners and sensors, there is no trace of Evron's massive Zirin signature in any of the galaxies that I am able to scan for. MAI is still in her lab monitoring every single sensor we have but...we can either assume that the Boss is either dead or he's so far away that our scanners can't find him. I'll remind you that I built all our scanners and they have a really powerful range. I mean, he could be-"

"He's not dead," interrupted a soft voice from across the room. Sitting on a soft-looking white armchair was a robed young woman dressed all in white with gold trim. She had back length golden blonde hair done in layers and soft round eyes with scarlet pupils. She seemed to be backlit by a soft golden glow that made her hair stand out even more.

Craig sat up and leaned forward on the couch, stifling a yawn as he did so. "Look, Lia...Princess, I'm not saying he's dead but what if he is? Dying's apparently not a big deal to the Boss. He's come back before."

Lia looked at him with an expression that was too kind to be considered a glare. "He is not dead. I can still feel the bond that my beloved has with me. All of you can feel it. Due to your somewhat mechanical nature, your awareness of the bond you share is dulled. Regardless, Lord Nexus would not let him die."

Atlas stepped forward into the center of the large office, his voluminous scarlet cape fluttering behind him. "Princess is right. I do still feel like Ev is alive. He just doesn't feel like he's... **here** ," Anton said, stressing the last word. "It feels the same as when he was lost when chasing Space & Time. Eva, you remember, right?", Anton gestured towards to the female figure leaning on the far left wall. "Sis?"

She clicked her tongue in an annoyed manner and nodded her head, her short pink hair shifting as she did so. "Yeah, I remember. How couldn't I? I was almost pulled in with him. Your bond with him is almost as strong as his girl. you would know better than I would." After pausing, she continued. " So what? You think he's reality jumping again? That sounds more plausible than him being dead." She stood up from the wall and stretched slightly. All she wore was a sleeveless white Titanwatch fiber bodysuit with pink hearts emblazoned on her chest as her insignia. A pink pair of sunglasses hid her eyes.

"That's right," spoke another. "Evron is strong, stronger than ever." The voice came from a young olive-skinned man standing with his face to a wall-length window. His thick, curly black hair was long and unkempt, reaching his shoulders. He wore no shirt, showing off the several rather large scars and intricate tattoos of sea creatures that adorned his torso. His only clothing was a pair of short black swim trunks and a thick silver armband. On his back was a large harpoon. "He is missing, not dead," he continued in clipped, gruff tones.

Eldritch chuckled softly and stepped forward toward Aren's desk, his steps making no sound. "Aleks makes a good point. Our Great and Powerful Leader is stronger than ever. I doubt he needs us to look for him. He'll find his way back on his own. He is Evron, after all."

Aren stood up again and slammed his hands on the white desk in front of him, making the material emit an audible groan. Despite the visible anger on his face, his voice was still as calm as ever. "That's not the point, El. That's not the point at all. I told you I left the Alphas of Titanwatch because I felt I was not good enough to be one of you anymore. I wasn't strong enough. That was a lie. I left because I was scared that one day I would be caught in a situation that my power could not help me get out of. We lost Angelo, we lost Takumi, Cesar, Tisha, Jani, Kevin, Nell, Cris, Bart, we...lost...we...we lost Luther. All gone, all...dead."

Atlas held up a large hand. "Aren, look...", he began in a soft tone that sounded odd with his booming voice.

"Let me finish, Anton." Aren took a deep breath and straightened his glasses before continuing. "All of them had more reliable powers than I did. I...I was just scared I'd be the next one gone. Then Niko left. Anna, Ben, Maria, Jak, Cole, Vick, Erek, Naida, Aidan, Brit, Vance, Li, Amira, Zelda, Dan, Brick. They all left the Alphas because compared to you guys, they were fodder...and they knew it. The only ones out of those guys on your level were Niko, Jak, and Cole and they left because they knew odds were they'd be first to die. We're going to find Ev because he's our friend and him being missing is the same as him being dead. He brought us together. He made us feel like we were worth something and he always had our backs. I...We need him." As he finished, Aren sat down, reached into his pocket, brought out a quarter and began flipping it in an attempt to calm his nerves.

The room was silent for over a full minute. The silence was broken by Anton walking to Aren's side and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know how you feel, Aren. Ev did a lot for you. He did a lot for me, too."

Turning back to face everyone in the room, Anton raised his arms. " Look, none of us would be here today if it was not for Evron. Hell, the Earth wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for Evron. He was our friend when we needed it. He laughed with us, he fought with us, he fought for us, he bled for us, he died for us. When he was gone, we didn't act like a family. We barely acted like friends. We did a job and we went home. When he came back, we were whole again. Eva, Ev pushed you out of Paragon's way when he tried to kill you again. He took a hit that would've killed you and he didn't hesitate. You hated him back then because you thought he killed Dad. When you asked him why he saved you after you tried to kill him, what did he say?"

Eva smiled sadly. " He said 'You're still my friend, whether you hate me or not.'"

Anton nodded calmly. "Craig, when Mayhem took your legs and arm, what was the first thing Ev did when you woke up?"

"He offered me his own," Craig said with a chuckle.

Anton laughed as well before turning to Dana. "Dana..."

She smiled and shook her head. "He's my little brother. I already love him...almost as much as you love him."

"Thank you, sweetheart. Princess, who was the only one who was able to help you deal with your Bloodrage?"

Lia's hair became streaked with red and her soft golden aura became a harsh red. Her expression changed from a kind smile to a vicious one. "Why, my beloved, of course. Who else would ever dare to even think they could lecture me other than him?"

"Thank you. Aleksandr...Megalodon, when you were stranded on that desert planet, what did Evron do for you before you could starve?"

Aleksandr closed his eyes and nodded. "He tore off his arm off every night until we were rescued to give me something to eat. He is a true friend."

Anton gave a slight grimace. "Yeah...okay. El, we all know what Evron did for you."

Eldritch raised one side of his mouth in a mocking smirk. "Of course. My dashing hero Ev. When I lost myself to all the millions of minds trapped inside me and tried to kill everyone everywhere, he punched me in the face until I was myself again. Isn't he just wonderful?"

Anton glanced at Eldritch with a look that said that he wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. "My point is, Evron did a lot for all of us.  
He's had our backs. He needs us to have his back as much as he has ours."

Craig coughed loudly, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt but you're obviously joking, right? Evron is leagues above us. We're all Z-Class. We should be the strongest things ever but Evron...he has the only classification past Z. He has Nexus, a fucking godthing, inside of him. I don't think he can ever die. Why does he and why would he...ever need us to have his back?"

Anton gave Craig an understanding look. "I understand where you're coming from Craig. Ev is strong. That's why he's The Boss but...he still needs us. He needs us to ground him. To make sure he realizes that he's still human, a person, and not just a force of nature. We need him because he reminds us that there will always be someone stronger. He's the King for a reason and we're gonna get him back. Nothing and no one will stand in our way. Is that clear, Titanwatch?!"

" **YES, SIR!,"** resounded the voices of everyone in the office.

"Good. Now let's find our boss and bring him back home," Anton boomed.


	12. Complications 2-1

I want to applaud Cherico on Sufficient Velocity. I just read his work "On A Pale Horse". I did not know that there were other Greg-centered works out there. I had seen the one about the mirror universe but that was mostly Emma and Taylor interactions. He inspired me to put Sparky in this chapter. I had actually forgotten about Sparky. I had assumed he was a Merchant but Cherico's characterization made more sense to me.

 **Complications 2.1**

"Okay, class. It's time for all of you to break off into groups," Mr. Gladly began, a playful grin on his face. "I told you all to be ready with your lists of parahumans and how they've affected the world. I'll give you a little bit of time to get together and prepare. Remember, best group gets prizes from the vending machine."

The class made a few vaguely excited sounds and the majority began to get up and move their desks over to their friends. Almost immediately, people started talking about topics that had absolutely nothing to do with the assignment but then again, Mr. Gladly didn't care. Greg sat in his desk for a few moments, adjusting his rather large hoodie and making sure his face was somewhat hidden. It had been just a little over a month since Greg had made the leap from human to metahuman. Over a month of running, jumping, lifting, blasting, and spontaneous sessions of extremely high speed dodgeball had turned Greg into a physically fit superhuman specimen.

Before Greg had met Evron, he was as healthy and physically fit as your average skinny white male nerd. Pasty, acne-ridden, and with muscle tone that could kindly be described as flaccid, Greg was no male model. After just one month of being an Evolved, everything was different even without the superpowers. His acne was gone, his skin had gone from pasty vampire to porcelain movie star. He had muscles. They weren't big but they were visible and rather well defined, if he did say so himself. They were visible enough that he had woken up early and spent almost an hour in his bathroom admiring his new physique in the mirror. Visible enough that he had to hide them with a baggy hoodie if he didn't want questions that he couldn't answer. Greg didn't mind, though. Evron had promised him that, come summertime, he could let his guns out. Greg couldn't help but be giddy. After all, he had ABS!

After he gathered his things together, Greg stood up and dragged his chair over to the one person he knew wouldn't have partnered up with anyone else.

"Hey, Sparky."

Sparky looked up, a dazed look on his face, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "Hey, brah. I'm not gonna be much help. I didn't do the work." His red bandana, which normally kept his long black hair out of his eyes, was loose.

Greg leaned back in his chair. "No prob, Sparky. I got you covered. I did everything. My list is probably the best."

"Thanks, man. So, what's up?" Sparky said as he rested his chin on his palm.

"You remember that guy I told you I met a while ago?"

Sparky closed one eye and made a face that let Greg know he was thinking. "Yeah. I think so...maybe. Some weird vato with weird hair...yeah. You told me, brah."

"Me and him have been meeting up. He's been helping me work out and stuff. He's a pretty cool guy. He thinks I have potential."

Sparky paused for a few seconds as he yawned widely and then gave Greg a sleepy grin. "So, brah, you're into guys now? I though you still liked that girl with the long hair...um, what's her name...Tara."

Rolling his eyes, Greg snorted in an attempt to hold back his laughter. "Sparky, you're barely funny. Seriously, you know her name is Taylor." Greg had had a crush on Taylor Hebert since the first time he had seen her. Something about her had caught his eye the second he spotted her. He wasn't blind, though. He knew that Taylor's friends were hot and plenty of other girls at school were pretty enough but Taylor was different. She was just so composed and stoic. To Greg, she was almost like royalty in the way she behaved. It was a subtle attraction but his infatuation was no less powerful. Her long hair and legs didn't hurt either.

Sparky turned his head slightly. " I guess. I don't really care. She's kinda rude, no joke."

Greg winced. He couldn't lie to himself that Taylor did have a habit of ignoring people sometimes. "No, no, she's not. She's just...busy with her own stuff."

The blank look he received in return told him exactly what Sparky thought of his reply.

Sparky sat up and yawned again. "Seriously, brah. You've tried to talk to her like a hundred times already and she just, like, straight ignores you. She acts like you're not even there sometimes. That's just not cool, brah. If it was me, I'd me majorly butthurt."

"Look, look, look, Sparky. It's not like that. I fuck up when I get around her. I act stupid and say real dumb things. Besides, she's busy with her friends and stuff and she doesn't really talk to people, yeah, but she's got a lot to deal with, you know...Like, you know the thing with the locker. People are seriously jealous of her and they're so messed up that they shoved her in a locker full of that nasty shit, man, and she still comes back to school like a fucking boss. Like it doesn't even bother her. She's like fucking royalty, dude. She's way better than them and they know it. That's why they're so jealous." Greg's eyes were almost sparkling as he spoke, his raw emotions bleeding through his words.

Sparky whistled softly. "Wow, brah..."

Greg nodded. "See, you get it now. She's pretty awesome."

Sparky snorted. "...You're so fucking whipped," he said, shaking his head. "And by a girl who only notices you when we're in a group together. " Sparky craned his neck upward and stared out at the class. "Where is your queen anyway, brah?

Greg let out a huff as his eyes passed over the room. "She went to the nurse. She had a pretty bad headache or something."

"What's wrong with you?" Sparky asked, an expression of shock on his normally dazed face.

Greg quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your queen is sick and you're not there to take care of her. She could, like, be dying without you there to make it all better. Not cool, brah, not cool," Sparky replied, shaking his head sadly.

Greg rolled his eyes again. "Again, you're just so funny, Sparky. Either way, look, I like her, yeah, but that's kinda it. She doesn't like me back. I'm pretty sure, at least."

"Yeah...that's heavy, brah."

"So I have to chill. I can't just like talk to her when all that that comes out is stuff she thinks is stupid. So, I have to – Oh...great."

Greg groaned softly as one of the popular girls who occasionally hung around Taylor walked in to class, late.  
Sparky smirked at Greg's annoyance.

"Can I be in Madison's group?" Julia asked Mr. Gladly.

"That wouldn't be fair. Greg's group only has him and...uh...uh...one other person. Help them," Mr. Gladly said.

Julia walked over to where the two boys were sitting and made a face. Just loud enough for Sparky and Greg, with his enhanced condition, to hear, she muttered a disgusted, "Ew."

'Well, fuck you too,' Greg thought with a blank expression on her face.

"Gladly says I have to work with you two," the girl said with a sneer.

"Of course he did," Greg mumbled with a roll of his eyes. "Okay...what do you have for your list of parahumans.?"

She scoffed. "I didn't do the project, idiot. God, didn't you do it? You better have done it. I'm not getting an F 'cause you weirdos didn't do anything."

'And the bitching begins.'

Greg sighed as he left his last class for the day. Mr. Gladly's class had really taken a turn for the worse as soon as Julia had shown up. Madison and her other friends had moved their desks right next to Greg's group so they could talk to Julia and annoy the shit out of Greg. 'Why does Taylor even hang with those bitches? All they did was bitch and insult other people. Fucking ridiculous!' Madison and her group had spent almost the entire time sniping at both him and Sparky. 'Stupid bitches.'

Despite all that, Greg was happy. Things were really looking up for him. Sure, there were assholes at school, but he had friends now. Well, a friend. Sparky had been Greg's friend since last school year and he was a cool guy. He worked hard at his dad's restaurant so he was usually too tired to seriously hang out but he was still Greg's only friend. He liked video games, Aleph anime imports, capes and occasionally, he liked to relax with some weed. Greg had even lit up with him a couple times. Smoking really wasn't his thing but he didn't mind it if it was just him and Sparky relaxing.

Then he met Evron and things had gotten even better.

He had become a parahuman, or was it a metahuman, or maybe Evolved. One of those was the right term for whatever he was now. Ev was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was strong and fast. He could lift a car and outrun one too. He couldn't imagine how much better he would get in the future. 'I have to work on my attacks, though. Ev did mention that he's going to let me go fight gangsters on my own soon. Maybe some anime will give me some ideas.'

Lost in daydreams of Buster Beams, Final Flashes and Spirit Guns, Greg made his way towards the school's main double doors.

"Veder, you think you can walk out on me again? Where's my fucking money, Veder?!"a deep voice roared.

'Fuck me!'

Greg hunched down in his oversized hoodie, ignored the voice and continued walking down the hallway. Students that were previously in a hurry to get out of school slowed down, hoping to see a fight break out. He noticed some of them sending him knowing smirks. 'Assholes. You just want to see me get beat up.'

"Veder? Veder! Turn the fuck around!"

Greg sped up his pace, keeping his eyes firmly on the double doors ahead of him. 'Just get to the doors, Greg. Just get to the doors.'

"VEDER!"

With a quick movement, Greg sidestepped the large arm that had attempted to grab his shoulder and whipped around to face his would-be assailant and his group of friends. 'Fucking Mal...,' he mentally growled as he looked up at the towering beast in front of him.

At a height of six feet and seven inches, Malcolm "Mal" Steiger, was the biggest guy in school and a sworn E88 since the day he showed up. Malcolm had been a football star, a quarterback who had been kicked off the team at his old school in New York for using steroids. After that, his family had moved to Brockton Bay and Malcolm had found solace with one of The Bay's lovable group of racists. Being blonde, blue-eyed, massively muscular and extremely angry, Mal was exactly what the E88 was looking for.

"Veder, you fucking playing with me? Huh?!", Mal barked, his large neck veins bulging, "It's been weeks and my boys told me you haven't been bringing them what you owe me. I'm the only thing keeping these chinks from killing your skinny ass and you can't even show me respect. I called your fucking name and you don't even turn around! Where's my fucking money?!" he roared, spittle flying from his mouth. Greg saw a male teacher standing down the hall look like he was about to say something but a glance at Mal's normal group of E88 recruits as they attempted to look threatening had him shake his head and walk back into his class.

'Fucking help you are. Fucking Winslow.'

Greg grit his teeth and took a deep breath, ignoring the voice inside his head that said to crush Mal's head like a grape. He knew he could do it. The Boss had shown him that he was strong enough. It would be so easy too. Just slap his head faster than he could react and Mal's brains, the little that he had, would go splattering against the wall. Greg wasn't scared of any of the bullies anymore. It was hard to be scared of a roided up seventeen year old when you've taken a brick wall to the face. He knew hurting them would be meaningless even though it would make him feel so much better. It would prove that these powers were usable for much more than just training...but it wouldn't be worth it at all. Mal was just one of many bullies in Winslow and compared to others, he wasn't that bad. Sure, he demanded money from him but he never actually beat him up.

No, Greg being blond and blue eyed earned him a pass in Mal's eyes. In fact, all the E88 bullies never seriously messed with Greg. Vague physical threats were made, yeah, but they were pretty much required to do that. Greg was a huge geek. They were huge bullies. They would never get along. Every time Greg passed by them, he could literally see them restraining themselves from kicking his ass. It was in their nature so they had to do something somewhat threatening otherwise they'd just be scenery.

The Merchants never bullied him but honestly the Merchants rarely messed with anybody in school other than the ABB and E88. They were too busy skipping school or sleeping during class. No, the main efforts of Greg's bullying came from the students that were ABB. Apparently, they had all held a meeting and come to the amazing decision that since Greg was the biggest example of whiteness that they could find at Winslow that wasn't part of the E88, they would do their utmost to make him an E88 member by making him hate all Asians. They had beaten him up, taken his backpack, broken into his locker, and mugged him for his money. At least Mal and the other E88 guys had the decency of asking him for his money, albeit somewhat forcefully.

'Calm down, Greg. What did Evron say? If I want to keep a secret identity, I have to act the same as I always did.'Greg took a deep breath and fixed his face into the biggest nervous smile he could muster before looking up at Mal. 'And that means acting like I'm still scared of this shitty meathead.' "I-I'm sorry, Mal. I didn't hear you. I-I wasn't paying attention. I'm r-r-really sorry," stuttered Greg.

'Fuck my life. Was I really this sad before?'

Mal's expression changed from an angry snarl to a slight grimace of disgust. "Fine, whatever. Where's the money, Veder?"

Greg attempted to make himself look smaller, all the while hating the fact that he had to degrade himself in front of some Nazi asshole. "I only have a five on me, Mal. I'm really sorry," he lied through his teeth. Greg began to seethe even more as he realized a lot of students had gathered, making a circle surrounding Mal and himself and blocking all his escape paths. For some odd reason, Sophia, Emma, Madison all stood in front. Taylor stood right next to Sophia, holding hands with her and looking incredibly uncomfortable, almost like she was in pain. 'She looks like she wants to do something. Maybe she can't get past all the people in the crowd. Nobody else is even trying to get any help. I can't use my powers to get out of this! Where the fuck are all the teachers?'

Mal lunged forward and Greg watched him approach, his movement painfully slow to Greg's enhanced reflexes. He grabbed the front of Greg's hoodie and yanked him forward until Greg was right in his face.

"You really are stupid, aren't you? You think 'cause I go easy on you that I like you or something? WRONG! You're a weak piece of shit whose only friend is a fucking spic. Give me my money, Greg," he growled.

Greg swallowed what little was left of the pride that Evron had instilled in him over the past month. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out twenty-five dollars and held it up to Mal.  
The twenty and five were quickly snatched from his hands by a Mal who somehow looked even angrier.

"...I thought you only had five dollars, Greg."

'No...no...don't tell me...'

"You don't know respect, Greg. I keep your undeserving ass safe and this is how you repay me. Lying to ME! And trying to keep my money from me?!"

'Fucking Mal...' Greg knew what was coming next. Mal was too far gone and from the rage in his eyes, Greg knew that there was no turning back now. Evron had taught him how to deal with situations like this. All he had to do was keep himself loose and limp and his body would handle the rest.

The punch was slow to his eyes and it didn't hurt at all when it connected with his jaw. He hoped he was good enough to pull this off. He needed to make it look real. He couldn't expose himself after only one month. The second one hit him on the side of his face and he moved with the strike, doing his best not to give Mal a broken hand. The third hit was almost a surprise. Almost. Greg had been expecting punches from Mal so he was caught a bit off guard when Mal lifted a boot and caught him in the chest.

Greg slammed into the locker, denting the metal as he slid to the floor, groaning as if he was in pain. He glanced around at all the expectant faces cheering at the bloodbath they were expecting. Sophia, for some reason, looked a bit conflicted, like she wanted to enjoy what was going on but couldn't for some reason. She seemed to alternate between a hungry smile and an angry growl. It was like she had just gotten a great gift but the person who gave it to her was a child-murderer. Taylor stood a few feet away from her, an odd look of pain on her face.

Mal grabbed Greg by his hood and yanked him to his feet.

A mad grin was on his face and he slammed his fist into Greg's stomach several times. "You're lucky your little border nigger of a friend already left. I'd be teaching his bean-eating ass a lesson too."

'This was a stupid idea,' Greg thought as he was held aloft by Malcolm's meaty hand. 'He could punch me for an hour and a half and I still wouldn't bleed. I'm not even feeling this.' Greg glanced over at Taylor, who still looked as if she was in pain. 'She must really not like seeing people get hurt.' Mal roared and threw Greg back into the lockers, knocking Greg out of his thoughts.

'Fuck this! I'm getting knocked around by this Nazi piece of shit and for what? I'm better than this!' Greg growled out loud, nearly surprising himself with the guttural sound coming from his throat. 'Fuck this. If I'm going to get outed as a cape, I'm at least going to look good in front of Taylor.'

Greg got up quickly. Mal looked at him, surprise evident on his face.

'What the fuck? Why isn't this fucking fucker bleeding? This skinny little shit should be crying. What the fuck?' Mal's inner thoughts did not match the guttural scream that came from his throat as he ran towards Greg. He threw a punch right at Greg only for it to be stopped. Everyone in the hallway had gone completely silent as Greg held Mal's fist with his open palm.

"What..." Malcolm stepped back a few feet and the crowd moved around him, to give him space.

Malcolm Steiger was never the smartest guy. His grades were barely hovering over the line. He always said something stupid or odd that always made conversations awkward. When he had discovered that he could play football, he had enjoyed how people finally praised him. He wasn't the slow big guy anymore. He was a star. He had friends. Girls wanted to go out with him. He was popular. When he heard steroids could make him better at the only good thing in his life, he had jumped on it. He won his team several championships before someone figured it out. They kicked him off the team. Nobody wanted to be his friend anymore. Malcolm didn't think it was fair. He didn't know it was illegal. His family was even more embarrassed by him, so embarrassed that they left New York. He was glad that they had moved to Brockton Bay. He met new people who wanted to be his friend. People who told him the people who caused all his problems. He loved the E88 and everything it stood for. Malcolm had made a lot of bad mistakes in just a few short years. Picking on Greg Veder was just the most recent.

The strike was quick. Mal probably never even saw it coming. The other students certainly didn't.

In less than an instant, Greg had crossed about eight feet and planted his fist into Mal's stomach. Before Mal could even vocalize the pain from Greg's first strike, Greg hit him again in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground, unconscious. As he fell, the crowd rushed out of the way as if terrified, leaving Mal to fall on the cold linoleum.

The entire crowd of students stared at Greg as if they had just seen a ghost. Greg glanced toward Taylor and noticed her staring at him as if really seeing him for the first time. He glanced around and noticed Madison with a look of stark fear on her on her face, Sophia simply tilted her head and stared at Greg in a curious manner as if he was something to be studied while Emma seemed to be looking at him with something oddly similar to...lust.

Greg shrugged nervously as he felt the weight of all their shocked stares on him. "He's not dead, you know. You can check his pulse and stuff."

No one said anything and they all continued to stare.

"I wouldn't kill him anyway."

More Silence.

"I wouldn't kill anyone, really. It was his fault. I mean, he was hitting me and I mean, it didn't hurt but he was...you know, he wouldn't stop. I just...I was angry. He's fine, really. Guys, it's me. I wouldn't hurt anybody," Greg rambled on, unsure if his verbal stream was working at calming anyone down.

Still more silence.

Greg huffed. "Fine...If that's how...you know...Just...MOVE!"

Greg walked forward and the students hurriedly began to part as they seemed somewhat frightened by his outburst, giving him plenty of space to walk until he was once again walking down an empty hallway toward the double doors. As he opened the door, Greg looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, they were all still standing there, silently watching his back as he exited the building.

Greg mumbled to himself as he walked out, one last muttered sentence spilling from his lips. "I just wanted to watch some anime."

Greg sighed as he jumped from roof to roof, wearing only a white T-shirt and jeans. He had discarded the baggy gray hoodie shortly after he left Winslow and he was no taking his time to practice his free-running skills as he went home. There was no point in hiding his new physique anymore.

Greg sighed once more as he vaulted a chimney, body nearly perpendicular from the rooftop. This wasn't how today was supposed to go. Today was supposed to be a normal day.

'The only thing normal about today is the fact that I got messed with. With my luck, the PRT might already be at my house. I should really have told Mom about this. Fuck! This is all that stupid meathead's fault. Mal's lucky I didn't break anything. If I wasn't so nice...'

Greg was right. He had been very careful with how he struck Mal. Both strikes, while rather fast, were thrown using the minimum of his strength in order to keep from hurting the Nazi too badly. Instead of hitting Mal like a sledgehammer, Greg had struck him with all the force of a professional heavyweight boxer. His fingers twitched as he thought back to the incident that had taken place just a few months ago.

'Fucking Winslow! What kind of shit was that? Someone's getting beat up and a teacher just walks away like it's none of his business,' fumed Greg. 'If I was a normal guy, he'd probably have killed me. Shitty school, shitty teachers, shitty students and no fucking security! I mean..."

Greg paused his angry train of thought as he realized that he wasn't too far from home. Making sure no one was around to see him, he dropped from the roof of the brownstone he was currently on to an alleyway below.

After keeping on the lookout for roughly five minutes and not seeing any vans that seemed similar to the ones the PRT used, Greg made his way towards his modest two-story dwelling. He unlocked the door and entered his house hurriedly, shutting the door behind him. After dropping his backpack at the foot of the stairs, he headed up to his room where a surprise was waiting for him. On his bed lay a pure white jumpsuit.

'Oh my god. He did...he made it!. He told me he would but I didn't really think he could make one!'

He quickly rushed to his bed and picked it up, admiring it. It was a solid white jumpsuit made of some thick, ultra fine, mesh-like fabric that somehow managed to feel rigid and flexible all at once. Around it's forearms were two long golden manacles, almost the same as the ones Evron usually wore without his limiters on. It had a collar made of the same golden material. Surrounding the waist was a thin golden belt. As Greg put his hand on one manacle, the thing beeped and a full-size color hologram of Evron popped out.

Greg yelped and jumped back, dropping the suit on the floor. The hologram did not dissipate however.

"...Boss?"

"Hello, Greg. This is a pre-recorded message. I left earlier today because I needed to test if some of my abilities were still viable in your universe and I can't afford to level a city. I should be back by tomorrow. I made this outfit as a gift for you. I know, I'm kind. It's what I do. You've been doing pretty good this past month. You've been responsive to training, haven't been whining that much, and you haven't exposed your secret identity."

Greg winced. 'Shit...'

"So, good signs all around that you're ready to step up into the big leagues. From here on out, you're not just my student. Now you have an even bigger job."

"I do?"

"You do. This job comes with a lot of responsibilities and duties that could mean life or death. You'll have to make hard choices and tough decisions that could make or break your career. You'll get to fight beside people with more power than you could ever even hope to dream of and learn from them. Are you ready, Greg?"

"Yeah. I'm ready. I'm so ready. I was born ready. What is it?", he nearly screamed, excitement making him giddy.

The hologram crossed it's arms. Starting from today, you, Greg Veder, are not just my student. Effective immediately, you are..." the hologram paused.

"Yes?"

"...now my..." Another pause.

"Come on already."

"Minion."

"Yes! Yes! I'm a...I'm a...minion? the hell? Minion?!" Greg recoiled angrily. "I'm no minion! Why do you even need a minion? You're a hero. Villains have minions! Seriously, boss. Me, a minion?!"

"Yes, Greg. A minion. This comes with several important duties and responsibilities. Including but not limited to; getting me food when I'm too lazy to do it myself, sparring with me whenever I feel like it, fluffing my pillow, listening to me me talk and last and most important of all, never dying your hair white."

'Dying my hair white? Why would that even be a thing that- Not the point, Greg!' "A minion though? I thought I'd be a sidekick at least. I was hoping for partner," whined Greg unashamedly.

The hologram shook his head. "Greg, Greg, Greg, Greg, Greg, Greg, Greg...Greg...Greg. Look, you can eventually become my sidekick or teammate, even. You can get promotions. The stronger and the most experienced you get, the higher you rank up. There is a pecking order in place. It goes errand boy, minion, lackey, henchman, underling, sidekick, protege, and superhero. You skipped right over Errand Boy, Greg. You should be proud. That never happens. If you get good enough, you might just skip right to Underling."

Greg opened his mouth for a few seconds but quickly closed it when he realized he had nothing to say in response to the craziness that was just spoken.

"Anyway, I made the suit out of some nanomachines from my suit and some scrap from the Ship Graveyard. It's bulletproof, self-repairing and has a tracker, in case you get lost or something, I don't know. Those armbands contain your Virtual Assistant. I call her S.I.A. It'll take a bit before she actually becomes fully functional. She has to adapt to you, after all. She comes with a GPS and an ability to access private networks and devices. I also loaded all your music on to the device in case you need some background music while kicking ass. You also have a program that tracks where large groups of criminals are likely to gather. Don't get into a fight you can't win, Greg. Or, you know, go ahead. Getting the shit kicked out of you early is good practice for when you get the shit kicked out of you later."

Greg marveled over the suit and raised it up to his neck. "It's kind of loose, isn't-WHOA!" The suit suddenly became semi-solid and wrapped itself around Greg's body. "What the hell? This shit's alive!"

The hologram yawned. "Relax, dude. It's just molding itself to your dimensions. It's mostly made up of nanomachines. Didn't I mention this? I think I did. Pay attention, Greg."

The slick, slimy feeling disappeared as soon as it began and Greg marveled at the suit he was wearing. "Wow, I look like I could be part of New Wave." His newly defined muscles were highly visible through the odd material and the outfit looked so skintight that Greg doubted it could stop a bullet. Despite that, Greg trusted Evron's words. If it was bulletproof, it was bulletproof. "Thanks, Ev. This is an awesome gift."

"No problem at all, man. Now go kick some ass."

Greg's eyes widened slightly. "You're letting me go out on my own?"

The image of Evron suddenly stood stock still. "This is a prerecorded interactive holographic message. No response was programmed for this question. Please ask a different question," he responded in a monotone.

Greg stepped back. "What? You-bu-whe-how-hu...W-We were just talking!"

"This is a prerecorded interactive holographic message. Responses were pre-recorded for a wide range of questions or statements. Including that one."

Greg grabbed his blonde locks with both hands. "How the fuck does that make sense?!"

"It's technology from three hundred years from now, dummy. Figure it out."

An eye twitch was the only response Greg gave.

"Pre-recorded Hologram has exhausted all responses," and in a flash of blue light, the hologram disappeared.

Greg stared at the spot where the hologram was for a few more seconds before he shook his head and turned to the mirror. "Crazy-ass."

"Okay. This is it. The big time. I'm going out...to fight crime. This city needs a hero and that hero's name is...,"Greg paused. "What is my name? Name, name, name, name, name...name. Okay, let's think, let's think...let's think about names. It's got to be cool. It's got to be heroic. It definitely has to sound awesome. Paragon...no. There's already a Paragon. No. Captain Awesome...no...Huh...Okay, let's be serious. I'm blonde. My suit is white and gold and I shoot gold blasts. I can get a name easy."

-  
1 Hour Later...

"Golden Guy...taken. Gold Shooter...taken. Booster Gold...copyrighted."

Greg sat on his computer going through PHO's list of confirmed parahumans hoping to finally find a name that he could make his own after he found out that all the ones he made up had been used before. It had not been fun.

"Bright...taken. Bright Star...taken and a villain. Gold Star...taken. Superior...Villain/Deceased."

Greg stood up, mulling over the name in his head. "Superior...Superior...Titan and Superior...Superior and Titan. I'm good with this."

Greg walked over to his window and opened it wide, placing a foot up on the windowsill.

"Criminals of the Bay, watch out! Superior is here and..." Greg paused as he felt the wind blowing gently across his face, "and he doesn't have a mask. SHIT! I can't go out without a mask!"

"Really?"

Greg whipped around to stare at the hologram of Evron that appeared before. "Wha..."

"Because you didn't seem to worry about that when you showed off your powers in front of half of Winslow's students. I thought you'd be out by now, Greg."

"You knew about that and you still gave me the suit? You're just messing with me!"

Holo Ev gave Greg a huge shit-eating grin."Who're you talking to, Greg? I'm just a hologram." And with that, he vanished.

"...Pre-recorded interactive hologram, my ass. You're just watching me all the time, you creep!"

'Whatever. Jerk's right anyway. I don't really have a secret anymore at this point. I'm like New Wave. Oh, I should join New Wave. That'd be so awesome. I'd be so awesome!'

Greg jumped out of his window and landed on the soft grass of his backyard with a thud. "Let's do this. Any gang scum better run, because they can't hide from Superior!...I really like that name. I could get used to that."

-  
Four Hours Later

Jump...

Jump...

Flip...

Jump...

Greg...ahem...Superior made his way across the rooftops of the Docks, feeling pretty pleased with himself. He had been out for almost a good four hours and had managed to find a few E88 and Merchants members in the midst of a crime. Most of the Merchants were trying to mug or beat someone up. Most of the E88 just happened to be hanging around, looking suspicious. When Superior had showed up and announced himself, they had attacked him. Really. All he did was defend himself. It wasn't even hard to jump down and beat them up. Fighting Mal had given him a rush of power but beating up a whole group of armed bad guys by himself...was like a drug in how good it felt. But it wasn't enough. They were okay for a little bit of fun but the fights were pathetic. 'I wish I could have fought a cape. The gang members were just so...weak. I mean, I knew what I was getting into...they're just normal humans. I can't expect too much from them.'

He had left the gang members on the ground and had called the police to pick them up using the Virtual Assistant, S.I.A., that Evron had installed on the suit. He had felt so good saying his name, Superior, to the person on the phone that he may have repeated it a bit too much. No problem, anyway. Just have to work on talking to people. After all, a hero has to sound heroic.

Superior jumped across one more building and ended up scrambling to prevent his fall when his enhanced hearing caught a deep voice roaring a  
block or two away.

"...those mother fucking kids. Shoot them in their fucking heads. Hold them down if you can and make them suffer. Bring the little bitch to me. I'm going to teach her a lesson myself."

'Kids?! They're going to kill kids! These guys are crazy!' Greg spun around on the rooftop, trying to find which direction the voice was coming from. "Where is that-THERE!"

Superior had already begun running, moving towards the direction of the voice. He reached the edge of the roof in less than a second and leaped, landing with a crash a few feet away from a large group of men, all of them huddled around one large masked tattooed figure.

"What do you think you're trying to do? Who the fuck kills kids? What kind of psychoa would do...something...like...,"Superior trailed off as he realized that the men surrounding him were all of Asian descent and the large masked man had silvery scales going up and down his body and he was walking towards him.

'AsianguysredcolorstallbuffguytattoossilvermaskscalesohfuckitsLungitsLungitsLungitsLungITSFUCKINGLUNG!'

Greg felt all his confidence dissappear instantly. The fearless hero, Superior, had vanished and left only scrawny Greg Veder behind. Greg stood frozen, like a deer in headlights watching as his impending death walked closer and closer, taking his sweet time.

When asked why he said what he did next, he would blame it on Evron and never go into serious detail.

"Hello, Mr. Lung, sir. Can I get your autograph? I really admire the way you revitalized the Asian community in Brockton Bay by giving them a cause to rally behind and an organization to fight for. Charity work like that is really awesome. Also, I'm a huge fan of the way you get angry and turn into a gigantic firebreathing rage monster. It's just so cool."

Lung froze at Greg's ramblings and Greg gulped as the large Asian man continued to stare at him. Then he laughed, a deep, powerful belly laugh that carried because of his strong lungs.

The gang members surrounding him were unsure of what to do for a few seconds as their boss enjoyed his mirth. They soon joined in, figuring that if their boss was laughing, they should too.

Greg stood there nervously until he decided to join in as well.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Greg cackled maniacally.

Lung stopped laughing and his men followed his lead, leaving Greg alone cackling like a supervillain.

"ENOUGH!", roared Lung.

Greg immediately shut up.

Lung sighed deeply, a small tongue of flame appearing from his mouth when he exhaled.

"Boy..."

"Yes, , sir?"

Lung placed a large hand on his shoulder and Greg had no choice but to look up at the silver mask of the Asian gang lord. "I have no problem with you. In fact, you have made me laugh. I appreciate that. If you leave now, I will forget you ever attempted to cross me. Are we clear, boy?"

'YESYESYESYESYESYES! I'm not gonna die!'

"Yes, sir. I'll just be..." Greg trailed off yet again as he found another reason to be terrified.

Lung was somewhat confused by his sudden terror. "What? Speak!"

Greg didn't say a word. Instead, he leapt several dozen feet away and began to scramble up a warehouse building.

And not a second too late.

Lung whipped around and his eyes widened behind his mask as he and his gang members were _drowned_ under a wave of several thousand insects, both flying and crawling, working in sync as a giant blob of creepy-crawlies.

Greg gasped and retched on top of the warehouse as he heard the muffled screams of all of Lung's men as the insects completely washed over them. 'Ewwwwwww. What the hell is this? That's just...sick.' Greg may have been terrified of Lung but this living mass of bugs was just...disturbing in a way that made his primal lizard brain go "NOPE!" They were synchronized, too synchronized. A cape had to be doing this.

Suddenly, there was a crackling noise from beneath the bugs reminiscent of cooking popcorn and a massive gout of flame burst through the insects, scorching a lot of the bugs and a few of the men still struggling beneath them.

Some...thing leapt out from the burning pile of bugs and landed on the ground, cracking the asphalt under it's bulk. It was a monstrous beast. A ten foot tall creature with a rather long neck, red scales, tall black horns and massive black spikes going down it's spine and ending in a spiked tail that was at least as long as it was tall. The air rippled and the asphalt melted where it's long black claws touched the ground.

Greg gasped. "Lung?"

The aforementioned dragon beast whipped around to stare at the freaked out rookie hero and Greg noted that Lung's eyes were now just pits of flame.

'Fuck me...'

With a roar, the dragon leaped at Greg.


	13. Complications 2-2A

**Complications 2.2A**

Greg Veder

The massive red-scaled lizard beast landed directly in front of me with a thunderous crash, cracking the roof beneath my feet. His face was elongated, appearing more like the maw of a dragon than the jaw of a man. Black spikes jutted out all over the sides of his face.

I simultaneously flinched and gasped for breath as the air was suddenly superheated. My cheap plastic mask began to melt and it fell apart on my face, the thin string snapping.

" ** _YOUUUUUU..._** _ **KAAAASER!**_ " he growled, his voice sounding like broken glass being smashed apart.

My muscles tensed as he stared me down with the flaming pits that he used for eyes. I was going to be roasted alive, burnt to ashes by his powerful flames.

His massive clawed fist swung at me and everything slowed down.

I saw it coming. It was fast but I was faster. I leaped, clearing Lung's head like a professional gymnast, barely avoiding the aura of flames surrounding his body, and I pivoted, spinning on the balls of my feet.

Lung roared in anger and swung at me with another claw and I danced just out of his reach, laughing as I did so. This was my chance. I made my move. I had learned the limits of my strength while training with Evron. The first week of my training, I could lift a golf cart over my head. Last I checked, five tons was my limit.

I threw a full-force punch at Lung as fast as I could and he stumbled. I hit him with all the power I had, my fists blurring. I must have been hitting him almost ten times per second, smashing at his scarlet scales, sending red chips flying from his hide. He was getting bigger, getting tougher and my strikes were doing less and less damage with every second. I was hurting him less and less with every single strike.

That needed to change. I darted in and out of close range, striking all around his body and occasionally dodging the gouts of fire he would attempt to blast me with. His flames were hot, incredibly so but my suit protected my skin from the worst of it.

'Yes...more!'

He was still growing and his flames were getting hotter, as evidenced by the pool of molten asphalt increasing in size at his feet. Lung roared again and a burst of flame exploded from his body. He roared and his neck stretched, becoming snake-like in it's flexibility. His entire body became longer and his already long tail had extended almost a dozen feet. I struggled to breathe under the uncomfortable pressure of Lung's aura of heated air but it didn't matter. I just didn't care. This was TOO MUCH FUN!

" _ **KILLLLL YOUUUUUGHH!".**_

Lung swiped at me and I easily dodged, leaping backwards just before his superheated claws rent apart a brick wall that had been behind me and sent brick and mortar flying.

He charged towards me and I grinned. Every step he took shattered concrete and tore apart asphalt, the sheer heat from his body leaving pools of melted, shattered pavement behind him.

I focused for a split second as I forced Zirin energy into my right hand and unleashed a quick golden blast. A ball of energy shot out from my hand and Lung halted his charge as it impacted his left shoulder, creating an explosion of blood and viscera that was highly gruesome to witness. Bone fragments flew like shrapnel, piercing Lung's face, neck and chest.

 _ **"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGRRRRRHHHHHHHH!"**_ The scream that burst from the beast's maw was more like a roar of anger than a howl of pain. As he writhed in agony, blasts of flame erupted from the ground around the Asian Dragon like geysers, utterly destroying the entire street and destroying the cars and exploding windows that had still managed to remain untouched.

"Holy shit...Awesome." I glanced at my hands and back up at the still screaming Lung, who was busy cradling his slowly growing stump of an arm. He was still FUCKING growing, his body shifting as his arm grew back. His neck had elongated a few feet, appearing more snakelike than dragon like, and the spikes on his shoulders, spine and back continued to grow longer and more jagged. He was almost twice as tall as when he first transformed and he was still not done.

I watched him from several yards away and I gripped a stop sign and wrenched it from the ground intent on using it as a weapon. I felt the emotions inside me, surging through me with the same force as the Zirin in my veins. My Zirin had spread from my core to every single nerve and muscle fiber in my body. I was stronger. I was faster. I was enjoying this.

Lung...he was strong too. He was definitely strong. Stronger than I even thought. Definitely stronger than what I was sure my limit was. His transformation was nothing like I had ever seen from him from pictures and video on PHO. It was quicker, more adaptive. I knew he got bigger and stronger but I thought the process was gradual. This was sudden bursts of massive growth...and I needed more. 'Yes...more. More. Get bigger. I'll take you down even harder!'

As if he could hear my thoughts, a new viciously spiked and clawed hand suddenly burst from the stump that had grown to his forearm, sending steaming hot blood flying everywhere and Lung's massive muscles bulged, instantly growing to twice their size. His other arm shifted and gained additional claws and spikes to match the newly regrown one. He glared at me, this time with caution on his monstrous face. He wasn't scared, not yet, but he was wary.

'I need to get him angry. I need him to be stupid!'

I smirked and folded my arms, intent on making sure I looked cocky enough to irritate anyone. "Come on, Lung. I'm barely breaking a sweat here. I thought you were the big bad Dragon Boss. I'm still here! You fought Leviathan and you can't even touch me. I expected an unstoppable monster from the big, scary leader of the ABB, not a mere," Greg suddenly thanked Mr. Yamanuchi, his Japanese Language teacher, for his amazing teaching skills, "warugaki or a stupid akachan tokage."

" _ **KILLLLL YOOOOOUUUUUU!"**_ That seemed to do the trick pretty well. Lung's face and chest ballooned, swelling to almost three times their size. Nothing happened for a few seconds but I was on guard, ready for the fire he would spew.

I was wrong. I was not ready. I was very much not ready.

He opened his jaws and everything was fire.

"HOLY SHIT!" I dropped the stop sign and booked it for cover. I barely dodged the flames, sliding into an alley at the last second. I jumped to a warehouse roof in one leap and stared in shock at the damage Lung's fire had caused.

Lung exhaled with the force of a fire hose, sending massive plumes of fire toward wherever he aimed his mouth and hands.

A literal firestorm had transformed the entire block into a living hell.

I had to end this.

'He's going down.'

Closing my eyes, I began to focus. Less than a second later, my body was aglow with bright golden light. I was faster. I was stronger...but not for long. I had to make this count. Lung was below, rampaging like a rabid animal. 'Let's put him down, then.'

I jumped from the rooftop and again time slowed down. I saw Lung running around on all fours, burning anything and everything in sight. I had a feeling that he was so far gone that even if his men weren't already burnt to death, he'd kill them right here and now. I landed on the destroyed road with a crash, sending pieces flying and alerting one berserk dragon.

He whirled around to face me and snarled.

I looked at him and gave him the same grin Evron usually wore on his face and his snarls increased. I ran, tearing apart the street beneath my feet and slammed my fist directly into Lung's chest.

Except I didn't.

I dove out of the way of his massive fist as it slammed into the ruined asphalt, leaving a crater where I just was. My hurried dive became a quick roll and I twisted around and jumped upwards to strike him in the face...only to remain suspended in the air.

" _urk..."_

My chest. My chest. It hurt...so, so much. I looked down and screamed only to stop as I coughed up blood.

His tail had gone directly through my chest. His **TAIL!**. Lung's spiked, serrated, several meter long tail. I wasn't paying attention to the damn thing. It was fast...faster than I could react to that quickly and it's spikes were sharp...sharp enough to tear through material that had proved itself to be bulletproof.

Lung had raised his tail at the last moment and caught me on his own barbs. He knew I was going to try to get close and hit him again. He planned for this. Lung grinned at me, boiling hot saliva dripping off his teeth and tongue. He shook his tail, jostling me violently and increasing the size of the wound his tail had gored in my torso.

Raising one gigantic red-scaled palm closer to my face, a large ball of fire began to form in it. " _ **ANY LAST WORDS?",**_ Lung began, his voice oddly clear.

I gasped, blood flowing from my chest, as my attempts to think were hampered by the incredible pain I was feeling. I was scared. Terrified. I didn't want to die, especially not like this. This was my first night doing something. Nobody even knew my name yet! I can't die here!

Lung opened his mouth to say something more, most likely an insult or a one-liner before roasting me...only to gag as a huge swarm of insects flew into his mouth. Much more insects than before began to swarm Lung. Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of bugs crawled, hopped, flew and slithered as fast as they could toward Lung, all of them intent on making his insides their new home.

He made odd choking noises as the large horde of insects forced their way down his esophagus. Bursts of flame erupted around him, killing some of the bugs but even more poured in.

I spent my time hanging off of Lung's tail in pain, my chest burning from the heat of Lung's tail and an intense tearing sensation in the center of my chest. Hisses and screams of pain came from both myself and Lung as we dealt with two very different types of agony.

Lung's tail had not been idle while the rest of him thrashed on the ground like a fish out of water. I had been slammed against buildings, had my face grinded into the jagged mess that once was a road, and been struck by Lung's flailing limbs several times as he attempted to fight off the seemingly endless horde of insects.

One powerful jerk of his tail was all it took to send me flying off his spiked appendage and into a wall. I heard a cracking noise that I was almost entirely sure was not the wall behind me as my body slumped to the ground. A warm liquid dripping down my face informed me that my skull was probably cracked.

Lung continued to writhe in agony, unaware or uncaring of my departure from his grasp. Fire flew everywhere, scorching so many, many bugs but more just kept coming.

'Gotta get up. Get up...get up...Get Up! MOVE!' I screamed at myself, urging myself to get up. "Why am I not moving?" 'Maybe it's the fact that your head's split open or a bunch of your ribs are currently loose from your ribcage or maybe it's the giant gash in your chest, asshat!' said a snarky voice in my head that sounded almost exactly like Evron.

Whether I wanted to run away or continue fighting, I wasn't sure but I couldn't stay down. With a grunt and a quickly silenced scream, I pulled myself up using the wall as a support.

'I have to get out of here,' I thought to myself, 'I'm bleeding out. I'm no help.'

I glanced back at Lung's massive draconian self groaning on the ground as he was being overwhelmed by the unending swarm of creepy-crawlies. 'Besides, whatever cape that's doing this looks like they've got it under control.'

I began to walk away tentatively, still holding my chest even as the pain began to fade. 'Less pain...I feel better. Is that a good thing? Cause I feel good but I did lose a lot of blood,' I silently wondered as I walked away. 'This was a horrible night.'

" _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

'

What the..."

I paused and whipped around, ignoring the pain in my chest, as I heard a scream of terror that was undeniably female.

Lung was still on the ground, struggling to move while suffering from whatever poison the droning insects had pumped into him but a large swath of bugs directly in front of him had been burnt to a crisp and a rather tall building close to it had it's entire front engulfed in flame. I looked up and my eyes widened. A cape was at the top...dressed mostly in black with a bug like mask and long hair.

I wasn't the only one who heard her scream. Lung looked up and made several odd noises before a burst of flame finally shot out from his maw, sending a massive clog of bugs shooting out of his throat with it. I repressed a shudder at how many bugs it must have taken to close his gigantic throat enough to prevent him from breathing fire.

Another scream and I saw the girl backpedal as part of her costume caught aflame and she tried to pat the flame away. A literal explosion of flame surrounded Lung, so large that it surprised me that it didn't have a mushroom cloud. The streets were aflame. All of the bugs were dead and Lung stood, larger than ever. Forty feet tall, spikes and barbs everywhere, several giant black horns protruding from his skull. He bellowed and a wet, loud, cracking noise was heard. His spine and back began to shift and twist and with an explosion of blood and flame, four massive spiked wings burst from his back.

'He has wings? He has wings! Of course he has wings! He's a Fucking DRAGON!'

Lung flapped his twin set of wings gingerly, moving around as if unsure of how to move them.

"S.I.A? S.I.A...," I said aloud, hurriedly attempting to use my Virtual Assistant, "S.I.A...S.I.A." I tapped my armbands and...nothing. 'Great...I can't call the police. I can't call the PRT. What the fuck now?!"

My minor freak out was interrupted as Lung bellowed and jumped, his powerful leap being overtaken by his four wings. The female cape screamed as Lung ascended rapidly, appearing in front of her with a massive fireball in his gaping maw.

"NO!"

The world slowed down and I _**moved.**_ My body was suffused with golden light and I leapt. My arc carried me to the top of the roof, facing the bug controller. I grabbed the black clad cape, puling her into my chest and covering her body with mine as time returned to normal.

Lung roared and I heard the rush of noise that followed his pyrokinesis.

He roared and roared...and roared.

'Huh...?' I turned around and my eyes widened. Surrounding the two of us was a glowing golden dome, protecting us from the torrent of flames Lung was exuding.

'We were fine! I was alive!'

I smiled, a manic grin spreading across my face and began to laugh.

"Fuck you, Bowser!"


	14. Complications 2-2B

**Complications 2.2B**

Taylor Hebert

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a princess, like most little girls dream of.

Like most little girls and their princessy dreams, I wanted a palace, fancy dresses and jewelry. Shiny, shiny jewelry.

But more than all of that, I wanted a prince. In the inevitable instance that a dragon kidnapped me and tried to eat me or roast me alive and then eat me, as dragons are wont to do, my prince would be there to save me from the big bad dragon. He would have flowing blond hair, blue eyes, muscles and he would be charming, handsome and the perfect gentleman. The hero holding me in his arms was close...but not exactly what I had hoped for.

"Don't worry, bug lady. I got your back. Once I let go of my shield, you distract him with your bug buddies and I'll take him down! Superior Style!" The golden haired figure stood above me, a soft aura of yellow light surrounding him in this opaque golden shield that protected us from Lung's flames. I felt relief. So much relief that my knees gave out and the unfamiliar glowing hero had to hold me up.

I looked up at him. His hair was golden, yes, but it was covered in dust and partially frizzy and a bit burnt. His face was covered in soot and blood and so were his teeth. His costume was ripped open at the chest, where Lung had stabbed him but I couldn't see a wound, showing that he truly was muscled. I really didn't care. Lung was a monster, a literal dragon, and he had saved me...even though just a few minutes ago I had thought he was dead. He was amazing.

"Hey, lady. You alright? Oh no, please be alright. I can't really get you to a hospital right now. Please don't die on me," he rambled in a tone that sounded more like a worried kid than a professional hero. Where was the bravado that I saw against Lung? The charisma he had when he was joking around with the most dangerous villain in town like they were bodies? The contagious level of confidence he had as he traded blows with Lung? It had vanished. Something else caught my attention.

That voice was familiar. Really fucking familiar.

"Pleasedontdiepleasedontdiepleasedontdiepleasedontdiepleasedontdiepleasedontdiepleasedontdiepleasedontdie"

And really fucking annoying.

'What.'

That's Greg's voice. That's Greg's annoying little voice. Wait...'GREG'S A HERO?!'

I looked closer and noticed the same awkward nervous look on his face that he always seemed to have.

It was Greg.

Greg...Greg Veder. I don't get it. This makes absolutely no sense. Greg Veder is a lot of things. Greg Veder is a nerd. Greg Veder is annoying. Greg Vader has bad skin. Greg Veder rambles like an idiot even if you're doing your best to ignore him. Greg Veder stares at you when he thinks you're not looking. Greg Veder is this close from being a creepy stalker.  
Greg Veder is a follower, unnecessary, a background character, a creep. Greg Veder is a wimp.

Except...he wasn't. At least, anymore.

Today, he had fought the biggest guy in school and knocked him out. He had used his powers, obviously. A normal person does not take that many hits from a guy like that and walk away without even a bruise. Sophia and Emma didn't even bother me after Greg left. Sophia had run off while Emma followed her, a weird look in her eye. Madison had stayed behind, shock etched on her face.

I had gone home, glad that the Bitch Trio forgot about me and Greg's fight still on my mind. I couldn't help but go over it in my head. 'How could Greg have powers?' I had eventually come to the conclusion that he had been so scared of the raging big guy, Malcolm, that he had gotten powers or something. It made as much sense as anything else I could come up with. If Greg had gotten powers earlier than today, I didn't see how someone with his personality could have kept it a secret for longer than a day or two. If I knew Greg, he would be shouting it from the rooftops.

But...if he had only had his powers for a few hours, where did he get this costume from? And how is he already fighting Lung?

"Hello...hello...say something, please."

Huh? He was still talking. Of course he was. This was Greg we were talking about.

I didn't need to hide my voice. With all the smoke in the air, my throat was so hoarse that it would make no sense to.

"What's your plan?", was all I said.

He smiled at me, a stupid goofy Greg-ish smile that I honestly didn't mind. It was nice. He was no prince but...he did save me from a dragon.

The confidence seemed to slide back onto his face and his smile became self-assured, almost arrogant. His eyes began to glow a bright gold and two glowing, golden...blades grew from the back of his hands.

Lung roared and circled us, his flames still crashing down on the shield above us.

" You distract him with your bugs and I stab him with these. The two of us, we're gonna slay a dragon."

What had happened to him? This confidence...this strength...this wasn't the Greg I knew. I could get used to this Greg.

I stood up straight and I looked at him.

"Okay. When do we start?"

Greg glanced up at the dome surrounding us.

"As soon as I take down this shield."

There was a few awkward moments of silence between us, interspersed with roars from Lung, of course.

"And...when are you doing that?"

The confidence dissapeared from Greg's face and that awkward look appeared again.

"I don't really...know...I didn't...really know I could even make...shields...so...heh" Greg said, smiling awkwardly.

My mind froze as I tried to wrap my head around this new development and I ended up realizing something. "So..if you didn't know that you could make shields, what were you trying to do when you grabbed me and shoved my head into your chest?"

Greg's face made odd movements and I realized that he was actually thinking about what he was going to say. 'First time for everything'

"I was trying to...protect you...using my body," he finally said.

" So you were going to protect me...from a giant blast of flame...using...your...body." Honestly, that was really nice...but extremely stupid. He doesn't even know me. I could be a villain. He did know me and he probably thought we were friends, for some reason. If it was anybody else, I'd call it sweet. I couldn't let him know that, though. "That's stupid."

He spluttered and his face reddened. "Well, I'd like to see how you could have survived if I hadn't showed up and made this!" He waved his hand at the dome and it flickered and dissapeared...while Lung was directly above us. Lung noticed this and pivoted his extremely long, snake-like dragon body in the air, opening his car-sized mouth wide.

I freaked out. "PUT IT UP! PUT IT UP! PUT IT BACK UP!"

"I'm trying!" Greg said, waving at the air furiously like a third-rate magician. "It's not working! IT'S NOT WORKING! Uhhhhhh...Jump on my back!"

"What?"

He looked at me with a manic expression. "Do you want to be Lung's dinner?! Jump in my arms and put your arms around my neck!"

I did so and Greg's arms locked around my legs and waist like a vise, definitely cutting off some of my circulation.

"Hey, that h- _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"_

And then Greg jumped off a twenty story building.


	15. Complications 2-2C

**Complications 2.2C**

Tattletale & The Undersiders

Tattletale looked at the scene before her through her binoculars, her power putting the information together.  
Two capes, rookies obviously, were under a golden dome that seemed like something Lady Photon would make.  
She obviously wasn't here. She'd be fighting Lung obviously. But...about Lung. Lung...Lung was different, very different.  
She could tell that he looked different. That much was obvious from his new appearance as he flew above the roof raining down fire, but there was more than that at play.  
His power had changed as well.

 _Scales no longer armor plated, now organic. Strength increases at the expense of speed. Regeneration much more rapid, bursts of growth and healing, much less gradual. Adaptation to damage, instead of pure growth. Not using new abilities properly, not adjusted...unsure of how to fight in new body._

Lung had changed, yes, but he was mostly the same. Honestly, the change to his appearance was more interesting than his powers.  
He appeared to be something similar to a Chinese Lung Dragon with twin sets of wings other than the metal lizard thing he vaguely looked like before.

The other figure, the golden kid, was much more interesting. He had been fighting Lung for almost five minutes and had been holding his own, at least until Lung impaled him. But that didn't even stop him for long.

 _Able to fight in close quarters with Lung, puncture wound on chest healed in under a minute...powerful healing factor, Brute Rating High. Glow increases with use of power. Power temporary? No...alternate power source. Glows when stronger or faster...alternate power source limited._ _ **NOT HUMAN?**_  
 _Smiled and laughed during fight. Fight crazy? Yes...no. Enjoyed fighting Lung...enjoyed the danger or no...? Enjoyed using power. Power addictive. Possible mental issues._  
 _ **NOT HUMAN?**_  
 _Holding back? Yes...no. Maybe. Partially trained. Only using tiny portion of power. Still getting stronger._ **NOT HUMAN.**

Tattletale winced as she felt a slight twinge of pain. She quickly shook it off. It wasn't a real headache, anyway. Maybe the beginning of one, but not yet. She had to finish this.  
The longer she looked at the golden guy, the more she began to wonder if he wasn't a member of New Wave that they don't let the public know about because of mental issues.

 _Possible...facial structure similar to Carol Dallon. Hair color too golden. New Wave hair color ranges from honey blonde or light blonde._ _ **NOT HUMAN.**_ _  
Some connection possible. Displays several powers similar to Lady Photon and Brandish. Energy blasts, shields, glowing...,_ _ **NOT HUMAN.**_ _  
Possible offspring of member of New Wave. Possibility of infidelity from Carol Dallon...High?_ **NOT HUMAN. NOT HUMAN. NOT HUMAN.**

Tattletale blinked at the conclusion her power came to before smirking. 'Juicy...'

 _Shield still strong. Has not weakened. Completely impervious to harm? No. Diffusing heat away from area of protection...Only protects against flames? No...Yes?...No/Yes. Both._

'How does that even work? Both? What is this? Schrodinger's Cape? Nothing tonight barely makes any sense.  
Lung looks like one of those Chinese Dragons and his powers don't even work the same. I know he was still the same earlier tonight. I saw him. Metal scales and all.  
Then that kid showed up...'Tattletale paused and turned around to stare at the rest of the Undersiders behind her, all of them sitting on one of Bitch's dogs like she was and waiting for her to finally say something. She turned back to Lung and looked at him again.

 _Lung's strength and speed ramped up much faster than normal. Not currently fighting and yet not powering down. Keeping up his own transformation? Power seems to have gotten stronger. Touched Gold Rookie earlier, ability increased in strength and functionality. G.R. has a Trump rating. Makes powers stronger..._ _ **permanently.**_

A big smile crossed her face and she turned back to her teammates. "Fucking Trumps..."whispered Tattletale to herself.

Grue tilted his head, his face obscured by the mask he had on, and cautiously spoke to Tattletale. "What's going on Tattletale? What can you tell us?"

Pointing an arm in the direction of the golden kid, Lung and the other cape, Tattletale smirked. "We're going down there."

"...where Lung is?"

"Yeah, I thought the idea was to get away from the angry dragon man, not go towards him," added Regent.

Bitch said nothing.

"No, we don't want Lung," Tattletale said with a shake of her head, "The kid down there who was fighting Lung. All you need to do is grab onto him for a second or two and then run."

There was silence from her teammates, interspersed with the faint sounds of Lung's roaring and the heavy breathing of the three dogs they sat on.

Regent broke it.

He chuckled softly and spoke, "So we're playing tag now?"

Bitch said nothing.

Grue sighed, the darkness around his head rippling with every word he spoke. "Tattletale, what are you talking about?"

"That glowing cape, down there fighting Lung, is a Brute, Blaster, Mover, Shaker and a Trump. Emphasis on the Trump."

Grue turned over to Regent, as if to ask him if he knew where she was going with this, only to receive a lazy shrug in return.  
He had been curious ever since they had seen the blonde cape show up and start joking around with Lung but he had not been anywhere curious enough to risk his life when Lung was already looking for them. Tattletale had asked him to stick around. He had agreed, after some arguing.

When Lung had turned into a giant red lizard instead of his usual metallic form, Grue had decided that they were leaving.  
Tattletale had informed him that her power had discerned that Lung had long forgotten about them in his rage so the team had decided to stick around so Tattletale could learn more.  
Now, Lung was fucking huge and trying to Now, Lung was fucking huge and trying to kill two capes, Tattletale had said they were rookies, and Grue was pretty sure Tattletale only cared about what she could find out about the new arrivals to the cape scene. He didn't really care at this point.  
Tattletale had been using her binoculars to get a closer look at the action even though all of them could see the light show as it was only a few buildings away.

Regent raised a hand toward Tattletale in a motion that clearly said 'continue'.  
"And why are we sticking around? He's clearly got this handled."

Tattletale smirked, a smug expression that was familiar on her face. "You guys really don't get it at all, do you?"

Bitch growled, Brutus following her lead with a deep rumbling beneath her. "No. We don't. Explain or shut up."

Regent snickered and turned to look over at Grue, the two of them sharing another look. Well, Regent was pretty sure Grue was sharing a look with him.  
With the motorcycle helmet and all the black smoke around him, Grue could be making faces at him all day and he would never know.  
'Maybe he is making faces at me all the time. That would make a lot of sense, for sure. I do make fun of him a lot. That's probably the way he gets back at me...yeah...I should prank him for that. Syrup in his helmet or something...yeah...yeah...what was I thinking about again? Tattletale...no...Wait...Bitch said something.'  
"Yeah...what Bitch said." 'Good one, Alec, good one.'

Tattletale huffed. "No appreciation...none at all. Okay, you guys see Lung, right?"

Grue rolled his eyes, well aware that no one else could see the action. "No, Tattletale, the giant fire breathing dragon is completely invisible. Yes...we see Lung."

"Anyway...Notice anything different?"

Grue paused before speaking again. "I don't know...He's red and bigger...four wings are new and he's skinnier and longer."

Tattletale's smirk returned. "Exactly and the golden rookie down there is responsible for Lung's new makeover. He's a Trump that boosts powers...permanently. All it takes is a touch for a few seconds."

All three of her teammates froze as they processed what Tattletale just said. The smug smirk on Tattletale's face increased as her team looked at her silently.

Grue was the first to break the silence, shifting uncomfortably on Judas. " You're sure about this, Tattletale? Because I don't want to go down there for nothing." 'But if it's to make my powers stronger, I'd definitely risk it.'

Tattletale tapped her forehead with a wink. "As sure as anything else."

Regent smirked. "Then let's do this. Bitch, you in?"

The dog-masked cape nodded and answered in a gruff, succinct manner. "Yes."

Tattletale ran up and climbed up on Brutus. Brutus?

 _Darker patterns on hindquarters.  
Asymmetric bone ridges on muzzle.  
Jagged ear pattern_

Yeah, it was Brutus.

Anyway, she climbed behind Bitch and held on tight. "All set. What would you guys do without me?"

Regent chuckled, raising his scepter upwards. "You know we need you, Tats. You're our only Thinker. What would we do without your crazy guesses?"

"Guesses? What is that you think I..."

Grue smiled warmly and was glad that his helmet hid his expression. He didn't need his team knowing that sometimes he actually liked them. "Let's go. Undersiders, we go in fast and we keep moving. Regent, trip Lung up any chance you get. Tattletale, keep me informed on what you think he's going to do. We each touch this guy and we get the hell out. Let's do this!"

Bitch barked out orders to her dogs, Judas, Brutus and Angelica, and the Undersiders headed towards Lung.


	16. Complications 2-3

I would like to thank Mohamud, LordCirce, and my new, hopefully official beta, IrrationalSandwich for their ideas on how to make this chapter better. Because of their help, I was able to get this chapter from it's original 1.8 words to the 6k piece it is now.

Complications 2.3

With a thunderous crash, Greg landed on the already damaged street, adding a rather impressive crater to it's collection of ditches, gaps and generally torn apart pavement.  
Oddly enough, the fall had barely even jostled the figure he held in his arms, the still unnamed bug-controlling cape. Greg thought that was odd but he would think about that later. He had to get the female cape to safety immediately.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Now if she would only stop screaming. Even if his hearing wasn't enhanced, it would be annoying. With his new super hearing, it was like nails on chalkboard and a distraction he didn't really need right now. Honestly, why was she still even screaming anyway?

The fall was only a few seconds long and Greg was pretty sure she didn't break any bones. Hell, he doubted she was even hurt. Which, now that he thought about it, was really strange. It made no sense at all. 'The building was just over twenty stories tall, so roughly 70 meters. Together, we weighed around 280 pounds and we fell for about 4 seconds. We should have hit the ground with at least an average of 2 million Newtons of force. Why isn't she pulp? ...That really doesn't matter. That's a question for later.' Apart from the admittedly stupid idea of jumping off the building, he was doing his very best to keep her safe and she was still screaming her head off. What was the big deal now?

Greg paused that train of thought and made a quick jumping movement to the right, leaping over the burned husk of a car with a good ten feet to spare, as the ground beneath his feet suddenly burst open in a relatively small explosion as a fireball impacted behind him , sending flames and red hot gravel into the air. Lung's roar from behind him was almost palpable in the rage it held.

Ah, that was it. Lung, of course, how did he not realize it before? She was scared of Lung.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Make that VERY scared of Lung. Did she really have to scream in his ear though? He did have enhanced hearing. That shit got annoying real fast.

With a quick glance behind him, Greg leapt into the air and scaled a building in less than three steps before he kicked off the wall in front of him, bounding away just as Lung's tail lanced through the building in front of him, tearing through brick and mortar like a hot steak knife.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Maybe it wasn't just Lung. After all, the dragon had tried to roast her a few minutes ago and she had barely screamed. In fact, she froze up. 'So, why is she screaming now?' Greg thought to himself. 'She should be distracting Lung, not making my ears bleed.' "Hey, Bug Lady, use your bugs already!"

She stopped her shrieking and looked up at him, her insect-like mask shuddering slightly. "I-I-I can't."

'Ah...shit.'

Greg turned on a dime, doubling back in the opposite direction and running directly under Lung, prompting the scarlet dragon-man to roar in anger.

Greg dodged a gout of flame that Lung sent at his retreating figure, causing Bug Lady to emit another shriek. "What do you mean, 'you can't'?"

Bug Lady's voice wavered a bit as she responded, "L-Lung can fly and he's moving way too fast. I've tried getting close to him but most of the bugs that even touch him die."

"...fuck."

Greg poured on the speed, his legs pumping fast enough to outpace a Formula 1 car and his glow increasing in intensity. Despite his incredible rate of movement and superhuman agility, Lung was still keeping up. His new snakelike body was somehow fast and agile enough to keep up with much smaller targets, following each and every one of Greg's attempts to avoid him.

It was kind of annoying, actually. It wasn't like he didn't want to fight Lung. He did. He really, really, really, did. It was just the matter of the girl in his arms, the squishy girl who was not wearing a fireproof suit. It's not like he could fight Lung with her in his arms.

Could he?

All he'd have to do is use his feet to fight Lung and be more careful around his flames, and claws and...that fucking tail. It could work. Kicks do have more force behind them than punches.

No...no...just...no. That's crazy. But maybe...NO. Greg shook his head at the thought. Now was not the time to be thinking of stuff like that. Safety first for the squishy person.

"BUUUUUUURRRRRRRRN!"

The street in front of Greg exploded as gouts of flame fell from the sky, tearing apart what little remained of whatever street Lung had decided to rampage. Greg winced and dug in his heels, leaving grooves in the already destroyed pavement. The heat from the explosion were powerful and spreading fast. The many wooden buildings that made up the Docks went up like dry tinder, tinging the night sky orange with the amount of light the inferno emitted.

'Fuck RUNNING! He's gonna destroy everything in Brockton at this rate and Bug Lady might die! No more fucking around.'

Mindful of the female cape still holding onto his neck, Greg spun around so he was facing the quickly approaching Lung and ran towards him, surprising both Lung as he halted his undulating snake-like movement and the Bug Lady, if the increased pitch of her screaming actually meant something about her emotional state. God, he wish he had some duct tape right now!

With a bit more effort than usual, Greg forced a portion of energy into his right hand, causing the golden aura around him to dim for a second, and a flash of golden light flew from his hands, moving quicker than Greg had thought possible.

Lung apparently didn't think it possible either as he simply hung in the air, wings still flapping, staring silently at the spot where his limousine sized left arm/shoulder formerly occupied. Even the Bug Girl had stopped screaming and gaped at the cauterized nub that took the place of Lung's wickedly spiked limb.

Greg was shocked as well but, as usual, his mind was already somewhere else. 'He's not even roaring or anything. Does it hurt him? Maybe it doesn't. He's so massive, he probably barely feels pain anymore. He did just lose an arm, though. He's definitely going to be pissed, though...I wonder if he'd be angry enough to eat me. Does Lung eat people? He probably does. Dude is a dragon. Dragons do that. I mean, it's not cannibalism if you're a dragon, right? It's just normal dragon business. Eating people, setting things on fire. Dragon stuff.'

Greg's inane inner monologue was suddenly interrupted by a quick feeling of pressure on his face and he looked down to see the Bug Girl out of his arms and shaking her hand. 'Did she just slap me?...and when did she let go of me?'

The girl had already started running away from Lung and Greg but not before yelling behind her,"Run, dummy! Stop staring off into space like an idiot and run!"

The Bug Girl's screams woke not only Greg, but Lung as well from their separate dazes. Lung roared in anger and pain, his bellows sounding less like a human and more like a wounded animal and he lunged downward toward Greg.

Greg turned on his heels and ran, attempting to put as much distance between himself and the rampaging dragon.

He didn't get far.

With the force of a semi-trailer, Lung's massive head crashed into Greg's retreating back, sending the young hero sprawling into the hot, jagged pavement. Greg hissed in pain as he felt his ribs crack and he tried to roll with the force of the blow, bashing his head on the rough street.

He gasped weakly, struggling to draw breath, and rolled over quickly in an attempt to get up. Greg jumped up quickly, ignoring the blinding pain in abdomen, and not a second too late. Lung's razor sharp tail stabbed through the spot where he once was, gouging a deep gash into the ground. Landing on the ground with a wheeze, Greg was not ready for the torrent of flame that Lung spewed from his maw.

Striking at him with a physical force, the blast of flame exploded as soon as it struck him, sending him flying. Everything burned. He didn't know how far he flew or where he was going and he didn't care. He just wanted it to stop. Greg's vision went black.

-

Sounds...roaring...sirens...gunshots...crashes...something was wrong.

His face...his chest...arms...legs...breathing...Everything hurt. Everything hurt so much.  
His body screamed in pain and his muscles burned. Blood filled his throat, filling his mouth with an iron taste. One of his arms hurt less than the other. He didn't know why and, right now, he didn't care. His skin also felt strange. It hurt, just like everything else but it felt...odd. Thick. Not right. Why? Why did everything hurt?

Greg forced himself to open his eyes, a slight movement that felt like the hardest thing he had ever done. He moved his neck _,_ odd gasping noises involuntarily being emitted from his throat at the pain. He looked up, an oddly shaped hole in a dust-covered wooden wall the first thing he saw. He was in a room, a dusty, empty, insect-ridden room. Small flames were all over the place, threatening to converge into a blaze but a strong breeze prevented them from truly lighting up. 'Flames? Fire...was there an explosion?'

Greg attempted to sit up and nearly bit his tongue from the spasm of pain that ran through him. His head spun and he tried again, managing to pull himself up on one knee before nearly letting out a scream of pain. 'What...happened? Where am I?'

His breathing got heavier with every single moment of pain that he tortured himself with. Something was wrong, that much he knew. If he was hurt, what about Mom? Something could have happened. Where was the Boss? Why didn't Evron help? What was going on? The inside of the building was almost pitch black. It was abandoned, of course, so it lacked electricity. An orange light came from the hole in the wall. Greg needed to see.

Pulling himself up, Greg held on to the dilapidated walls of the rustic building as a support. Knees buckling from the pain, he made his way over to the hole and looked out.

With the available light, Greg noticed several things that he felt were rather pertinent to figuring out what had happened to him.

He was wearing...something...that seemed to be barely hanging on. It seemed to be white and gold, or at least it had been at one point. It was burnt and torn in several places, damaged beyond repair. His entire chest was bare and so were his forearms and feet. 'Did I make myself a costume? To fight? Did Ev give it to me? What the hell happened?'

His hands and, from what he could tell, most of his skin was burnt, severely burnt. So burnt that his skin was leathery, bleeding and peeling in most places. One of his arms, the left one, was little more than hamburger meat, almost completely unrecognizable as a limb. A burnt piece of meat maybe, but not an arm. "Wh-w-w-what is this? How could this happen? Why do I look like this? My skin...", Greg raised his hand to his face, the leathery sensation the same as on his hands, "my face..."

Greg raised his hand slowly to his scalp, dreading what he would feel. "...my hair..." It wasn't as bad as he thought but it was much, much worse than he hoped. The sides of his scalp were gone, leaving bleeding leathery skin in it's place. The only hair on his head was in a style that resembled a mohawk.

Greg fell to his knees, ignoring the screaming pain that his body was trying to force him to acknowledge. So many questions were running through his mind. So many, many questions. "What happened? What am I wearing? Why am I like this?...WHAT IS GOING ON?! I DON'T UND-!"

An intense roar interrupted Greg's breakdown and a massive slitted black and red eye surrounded by scarlet scales and ebony spikes appeared in the space leading to the outside. Greg shrieked and jumped back, fear overriding the signals of intense pain his body was sending him. With the sound of tearing wood and a rush of air, the ceiling above Greg dissapeared and he bore witness to the massive, serpentine, winged form of a dragon above him.

"What the-?"

He didn't get a chance to finish.

The dragon roared and an orange burst of flame shot from it's gaping maw.

An influx of images and thoughts hit Greg simultaneously as he recalled the events of tonight and recognized the appearance of the beast in front of him.

'Lung?...Lung. Lung!'

Time slowed down and the look of fear plastered on Greg's voice changed to one of glee. Slightly unhinged, manic, glee but glee all the same. Unnoticed by Greg, golden lights darted all around his skin, returning small portions of his skin to normal. His left arm glowed as well but nothing much happened to the mangled lump of meat.

The car-sized ball of flame rushed downwards and just before it landed, Greg _moved._

-

The abandoned house the blonde brat was in exploded, Lung's intense flame consuming the old wood of the rustic dwelling and spreading to other houses.

Lung's sharp eyes darted all around, searching for signs of the blonde's corpse anywhere. He knew that didn't kill him. He saw the smile on his face. That fucking brat needed to die. That little shit fucked with Him! Him! Lung! Tried to fucking ambush him! He wouldn't stop until he was sure he was done! Rip his arms off and eat them. That bug bitch too! She made Him eat bugs! He would find that Bug Bitch and roast her, roast her until she was nice and cooked, then eat her. No! No, she'd probably taste like fucking bugs.

The white boy! Yes, eat him first! One of Kaiser's, definitely! Kaiser, yes! Eat Kaiser next! Crunch his little shell like a crab! Stupid Kaiser kept trying to fight Him! The Dragon of Brockton Bay. Wouldn't stop attacking His men because someone burnt and ate some of his Nazis. Not Him! His hunger was new! Very new! As new as his new powers. He didn't know or care how his powers had changed or why but he was just so _**HUNGRY.**_

" _ **WHERE ARE YOU?! WHERE ARE YOU?!"**_

Lung darted in and out of the buildings in the Docks in his search for the blonde Kaiser brat, uncaring of the damage that his flames had caused and were still causing. The PRT and Protectorate wouldn't stop him, couldn't stop him even if they tried. They were busy fighting the gang war that fucking Kaiser started. He could only take a few men with him to kill those fucking kids that stole from Him. Lee and most of his men were in the streets fighting Kaiser and his Nazis. They were going to win. Lung knew it. At least, they better fucking win! If they didn't, he'd be fucking mad. He wouldn't eat Lee, though. Lee was good. Lee was a friend. Besides, he'd probably taste like dust.

Where the hell was this kid? Lung descended to the ground until he was at the roof level of some of the smaller buildings and tried to focus on his senses, intent on hunting down the kid and eating him alive. His hearing was useless. The sound of crackling flames and falling buildings all around would drown out any sounds the boy would make, his heartbeat especially. His sense of smell would not be much help in this situation either. Everything was on fire. Lung could smell plenty of burnt flesh all around, several of them his own men, but he couldn't tell them apart. He couldn't smell, he couldn't hear. What was he supposed to do?

Suddenly, a sound hit Lung's ears. Gasping, and a pained moaning from one of the rooftops around him. Which one? Where was he? Lung roared in an attempt to scare the boy into running.

Nothing.

No...footsteps. Behind him! No! In front! Left! Right! Where is he? _**"NO POINT HIDING! YOU'LL STILL DIE!"**_ , he spoke in that odd gravelly, yet clear rumbling bass.

The corona of flame around Lung grew, appearing more as a massive aura of fire, and massive balls of fire formed in his fists at the same time as another formed in his mouth.

With an unearthly roar, Lung exploded with the force of over thirty tons of TNT, sending a blast wave rushing from the epicenter of the explosion, namely Lung.

An inferno rushed out from him in all directions, creating a blazing dome of pure death that encompassed more than three entire blocks, collapsing many buildings and melting cars to slag. A large portion of the Docks had been destroyed in the fight already but this area, this area was little more than flat ground.

Lung breathed heavily, more out of rage than any exertion or tiredness. 'That had to kill him. It had to. Kaiser's gonna regret sending his little Junior Nazi Brute to fight me.'

Despite the scene of utter decimation that was once part of the Docks, Lung couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the boy's death...something was definitely wrong. The boy had fought him with a tremendous strength, a good amount of skill as well, but the strength and speed were what had caught his eye. Lung had stabbed him in the chest and less than a minute later, he was ready for more. He was a Brute, definitely a high level Brute, he wasn't going down that easily. Lung's eyes shifted around, searching for any trace of the little Nazi fucker.

His ears twitched and he heard...something. Lung whipped his large head around several times, looking for the cause of the sound. It was almost like a soft whistling on the wind, definitely not something a normal human would ever pick up.

Lung hung in the air for a second more, wondering exactly what that odd sound was, and on a whim he looked up as a glowing yellow missile slammed into his skull from above.

-

Greg Veder liked to think he was a guy with simple needs. He liked anime, porn, hentai, nerdy girls, porn, capes and junk food. Also, porn. Weed would be on that list but his only access to it was Sparky and he was usually busy at his dad's restaurant. Did he mention porn? Anyway, he had felt like things had been a little different in the month since he had gotten his powers. Evron had told him that physical improvements were soon to come and they did. He had gotten ABS! His muscles were toned and firm. He was a little disappointed that his junk hadn't grown since he had changed but he figured that at the rate his powers were growing, he'd need two rulers soon. Although, when he had asked Evron about it, he had stared at him quietly for a good thirty seconds before laughing so he assumed that was normal.

Greg liked having powers, he really did. The novelty of being able to chuck a four door sedan the length of a city block or being able to outpace a car on the highway hadn't worn off yet and he hoped it never would. However, Greg had been feeling...odd. Maybe he was losing it, he didn't know, but he had been acting oddly. His mother had noticed his new appearance and had also noticed his odd personality changes. When Greg first noticed his muscles, he had spent hours in front of the mirror, naked, admiring his new form. He hadn't stopped. Everyday, he would admire himself for a period of time that any regular person would consider too long. His stringy blonde hair had gained life and volume, the golden color brighter than ever. His skin had gone from pasty from his many years inside and in front of a screen to a porcelain complexion that he personally described as "beautiful". That wasn't him. He would never describe himself as beautiful. Handsome, maybe, but not beautiful. It was so ridiculous that he had to buy extra storage cards for his phone because of all the selfies he had been taking!

It wasn't just his appearance. While training with Evron, he had noticed himself exhibiting certain skills no one had ever taught him. He had instinctively known how to use weapons in a fight even though he had never done so before and, frankly, his hand-to-hand skills weren't bad either. He had displayed a ferocity when training with Ev that was just not like him. Tonight had proved that something was up. Any normal person that was fighting someone whose powers are "gets stronger when fights" would not do what he had done tonight. He had prolonged the battle, taunted Lung, held back on his blasts and rarely used them, preferring to get in close to someone who was much stronger than he was and literally breathed fire. He had laughed in the middle of the whole thing. Laughed...At...Lung! Something was wrong there.

His final clue was his lengthy inner monologues and the weird tone they seemed to be taking. Greg was not one to think much. He was a pretty smart guy but he didn't think much. He was usually doing something he liked, watching porn or doing something boring. Now, he seemed to be analyzing everything and trying to pay attention to almost every situation all the time. Sometimes, his thoughts would be smart and logical, like right now, allowing him to realize things or other times they would be a stupid and inane rambling that pretty much resembled how he usually spoke.

'Either way,' he thought to himself, 'I've got to talk to the Boss about it. Now I've got to focus.' And he did, have to focus, that is. Greg was currently in freefall headed directly toward Lung. The giant lizard had been hunting him while he was still struggling to recover from the initial attack that had left him painfully burnt. 'And ruined my hair!'

He had made his way to the roof of a warehouse and Lung had been close on his trail. He had hid as the soft golden glow had healed whatever pain he had been feeling all over his body while leaving his hideous burns untouched. The dragon hadn't known where he was hiding but Lung could tell he was close. Then Lung had the brilliant idea of nuking everything around him in a blaze of glory. He had seen the buildup of Lung's flames and had pushed a large amount of Zirin to his leg muscles to increase his jumping power. It had felt...not painful but odd, like the feeling you had when your leg was asleep but magnified by ten times, almost as if insects were inside his veins or under his skin. He had jumped just in time. His leap had carried him very high, high enough that he worried he might be hit by a low-flying plane. It also allowed him to see the extent of the damage Lung had caused. Lung's explosion had destroyed everything for blocks. Greg winced at the thought of all the people that may have been living in that area. All gone...

'I'm going to put him down this time. No jokes. No playing around.'

Greg angled his body until he was almost completely vertical and his feet were pointing downwards, one foot extended out. His golden glow returned to his skin and he felt a sense of confidence return to him, overshadowing all the doubts he just had.

He was moving faster and faster, the angle of his body increasing the speed of his fall with every passing second. Lung became visible as more than a red worm and Greg grinned, his light show increasing.

As if in slow motion, he noticed Lung tilt his head upwards. An instant later, Greg, glowing as bright as Scion himself, delivered a kick to Lung's cranium at terminal velocity.

Several loud cracking noises were heard as Lung's skull was penetrated by Greg's right foot, sending bone shrapnel from said skull flying, and Greg's right leg broke in several places due to coming in contact with something as hard as Lung's head.

Lung fell to the ground with an ungrateful crash and began thrashing viciously, jerky motions bearing the signs of intense pain rather than anger, in an attempt to free itself of whatever was currently stuck in it's cranium. His arms attempted to move but would instead spasm, leaving him unable to grasp Greg. Flames burst from his body at random intervals, doing nothing to harm the already destroyed environment. Lung was unconscious, most likely his body's attempt at dealing with the pain of having his skull caved in.

Greg cried out as he felt a renewed sense of pain as he felt his already broken bones crack and shift while Lung's muscles seized up as he shook violently on the ruined street. 'Come on! Finish this! End it!' Greg steeled himself, biting his tongue in an attempt to stop his cries of pain. Zirin was sent flowing to his right fist, the sensation of pins and needles flaring up again, and a golden blade formed. Greg held it over Lung's basketball sized, open, unseeing eye. He could do this...right? Just once through his eye and everything would be over. No more Lung. The ABB would collapse. One of the biggest problems of Brockton Bay gone, just like that.

'Just stab him! Come on! He tried to kill you! DO IT!' In a quick motion, Greg plunged the incredibly sharp blade through Lung's eye up to his elbow. He ignored the slick, disgusting, wet feeling on his arm and twisted the blade before pulling out. He watched Lung's unmoving body for a few moments, watching...waiting...Lung opened his other eye and gave a weak roar of pain, one of his eyes ruined and bleeding intensely. Greg reacted immediately, the golden blade plunging into Lung's one remaining eye and he pushed even deeper, not stopping until his shoulder was immersed completely in Lung's ocular cavity. He gave a few more stabs for good measure until he was sure Lung wasn't getting back up. No breathing...no movement...

Wincing at the pain, Greg pulled his damaged leg from Lung's cranium and lay on the sidewalk using Lung's dead body to prop himself up. 'I did it!' He had, in fact, done it. This was it. His crowning moment. He was beaten, bloody, bruised, horrifically burnt and mostly hairless but he had defeated Lung. He was so tired. Everything hurt. His body felt like ants were crawling under every inch of his skin and he felt like throwing up everything he had ever eaten. But...he won.

This was a hard fight and he was...just...so...tired. He didn't even have the strength to yawn. He closed his eyes for a moment. He just wanted to rest...but that wasn't going to happen. Sounds...barking...growling...sniffing. He opened his eyes to see three large...things standing a little bit away from him. He wasn't sure what they were. They looked like an animal Tinker took a dog, a lizard and a lion together and just went apeshit trying to make something...workable.

People were on the dog-lizard-lion things...young people. Five of them, really. They all seemed to have their eyes on the massive mountain of red scales behind him. A guy with a motorcycle helmet and leather jacket with black smoke coming out of his helmet. 'Dark Helmet', thought Greg to himself, the blood loss beginning to get to him. A girl with a bug mask and long, curly black hair. "Hey, Bug Lady!" The Bug Lady waved back. A somewhat unfeminine girl with a dog mask on that was standing by the dog things. She looked mean. 'Bitch.' Greg laughed at his own joke. A guy with black hair wearing a tiara, white mask and a poofy shirt and holding onto a jeweled stick. '...Gay Prince.' The last person was the one walking up to him. A pretty blonde girl in a domino mask and a skintight purple and black outfit. "Pretty..."

She smiled at him and held out a hand, barely even glancing at Lung's dead body just an arms length away. "Hi there, handsome. Need some help getting up?"

Greg stared at her hand for a moment before nodding. He grabbed on to her hand and she helped pull him to his feet, with a small grunt. "...Thank you," Greg replied as he leaned on Lung's body for support, his leg still broken in several places.

She stepped closer, her hand still in his, almost as if she didn't care that he was covered in dirt, soot, and various bodily fluids. Not to mention terribly burnt and nearly bald. "My name's Tattletale, What's yours?"

For a moment, all Greg could think about was what type of parents would name their daughter Tattletale until he realized that the name Tattletale was her cape name. "...I'm Superior."

Tattletale smirked and softly held his visible bicop on his right arm. The left was still too mangled. "Yes, you are...Your first night and you took down Lung? Impressive."

"Thank you."

Tattletale glanced at Lung carefully before giving Greg a kind smile. Turning around, she waved for her friends/teammates to come over and they did, walking slowly but none so much as the Bug Lady, who flinched everytime she saw the scarlet Dragon. "Superior, these are my friends." Black Helmet walked up, shook his hand vigorously for a few second before letting go. "Grue, the leader." The next one up was the skinny crown guy, Gay Prince. "Meet Regent." Gay Prince nodded at him and gave him a handshake as well. "Bitch" 'I was right? Wow, maybe I'm a precog, too.' Bitch stepped forward and looked at Greg for a few seconds before she placed a hand on his bare shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Good job." There was an awkward silence between everyone there that held until Bitch walked away. "And last but not least, our newest member, Arachne. We found her lost and running away from the fight between the Big Bad Lung and a powerful new Hero. " The Bug Lady...Arachne stepped forward and tilted her head at Greg while at the same time keeping her distance from Lung's corpse. "I really want to thank you for saving me. You didn't have to but you did...and I'm sorry I was being so...difficult. I didn't expect any of this to happen.'

Greg smiled at her, lack of blood making his smile more lopsided than charming. "No problem. I am a hero after all. Who are you guys, anyway?"

He heard an odd low-pitched humming sound coming closer to them. He apparently wasn't the only one. "Armsmaster!", growled Bitch.

They all turned to look at her. Tattletale nodded. "She's telling the truth! We have to go now!"

"Wait, why? He's a hero."

They ran to their dog-things, Arachne lagging behind, and as they climbed on, Tattletale turned to me. "Bye, Superior. Don't worry about your burns, they'll heal up."

And with that, the dogs bounded away. Just in time for the source of the low-pitched humming to appear. Armsmaster rode up on his blue and silver ArmsCycle, as it was known on PHO. In a single movement, he shut off his bike and jumped off, his Halberd in hand. Armsmaster was one of Greg's favorite heroes, an honor that only belonged to one other cape, Eidolon. He owned Armsmaster action figures, bedspreads, backpacks, posters and tool sets. A week ago, Greg would have given up half the things he owned to meet Armsmaster. Right now, he didn't give a shit.

They stood a few meters apart from each other, engaged in a staring contest, one of them a social outcast and a nerd who had worked hard to achieve things people would have thought impossible coming from him and the other was one Greg Lucas Veder.

Armsmaster broke the silence first.

"You gonna fight me?"

That...was not what Greg expected. He wasn't sure what he had expected but this...this wasn't it.

"...Really, dude? Do I look like I'm a villain?"

Armsmaster simply stared. "I don't know. I have no records of you. Are you?"

Greg sighed heavily, ignoring the pain in his lungs and wishing he could just sleep. He was tired. He was half-naked, bleeding, bruised, broken and mask-less, and that last one opened up a shitload of problems on it's own. He had just killed Lung and this fucker was giving him this right now. He didn't have time for this shit.

"No. I'm a hero!", Greg yelled out, more than a tinge of annoyance in his tone.

There was a pause from Armsmaster,

"...You're not...lying." He sounded off, almost as if he wasn't sure about what he was saying. "What happened here?"

"Lung was ranting about killing some kids. and then...

Armsmaster tilted his head in surprise at the first statement before shaking his head and interrupting Greg. "This is Lung? Why is his appearance so different?"

Greg sighed. "Beats me. Anyway I tried to stop him. We fought, I ran, We fought some more. He almost killed me a couple times. We fought again. I killed him," replied Greg glibly.

That's not true."

Greg spluttered weakly. "W-what are you talking about? I killed him when he was rampaging."

Armsmaster pointed at Lung's mass. " He's breathing. It's rather weak but it's still there. I should get him into custody immediately."

Greg shrugged, somewhat disappointed that he hadn't killed Lung after all his work.

Armsmaster aimed his Halberd at lung shot several rounds of some type of tranquilizer dart that stuck themselves in his hide. He pressed a button somewhere on his Halberd and the tip opened up, revealing a small nozzle which then sprayed containment foam all over Lung. When he considered Lung's unconscious form properly restrained, he turned back to Greg. "We still have something else to deal with."

Before Greg could even open his mouth, Armsmaster continued. "Who gets the credit for Lung?"

Greg recoiled and glared at him. "What do you mean? I took down Lung! I get the credit!"

"Hear me out. What you've done tonight is spectacular. You played a part in getting a major villain into custody."

Greg's blood boiled. "Played a part? You-you-you ASS! I DID EVERYTHING! I kicked his ass! I caved his skull in! I stabbed his eyes out!" 'Some hero.'

Armsmaster backed up, obviously not expecting this level of vehemence from Greg. "Listen, you need to consider the consequences."

"Consequences?! Fuck your consequences! I got stabbed in the chest by Lung's fucking tail! My arm looks like it belongs on a fucking sesame seed bun! I look like a piece of steak someone left on the grill too long! My hair is gone! Lung burnt off my goddamn mask. He saw my fucking face already!", Greg roared, bloody spit flying from his mouth as he shouted at the leader of the local Protectorate. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he began to limp forward. "I went through hell to kill this fucker and you want to take that from me?! I'LL FUCKI-oh, that feels weird..."

Greg paused and looked down to see a familiar red dart sticking out of his chest. He looked up at Armsmaster who was pressing another button on his Halberd, returning it to pocket size with a whoosh of air.

The whole world was turning, spinning young Mr. Veder around like a cheap ride at a carnival. Greg felt himself stumbling and before he knew it, he was lying on the floor. He looked up to see Armsmaster standing above him, expression as grim as usual. He had to say something. "You fucker..."Greg knew no more.


	17. Interlude 2b: Emma Barnes

Interlude 2b

Emma Barnes

You're either a predator or you're prey.

It's a very simple concept and one I've done my best to live by. I was prey once and I swore that I would never let that happen again, but something like that? It's easier said then done. Sophia thinks that attitude and determination is what truly separates predator from prey. That isn't the case, not really. It's power; social, economic, physical power. If I want to be safe in this world, then I need power. To do that I need to be honest about my strengths and weaknesses.

I know my strengths. I'm pretty, decently athletic, and thanks to Sophia, I know a little about fighting. Socially, I'm the queen of Winslow high but that means nothing in the real world. I know that I'm more or less protected at school, despite Winslow being what it was, but outside of it I'm vulnerable. Modeling means more contacts. It means more money. It increases my chances of getting power...but it's not enough. Not nearly enough. Being friends with Sophia is great, honestly. I learned a lot from her but I don't just want to be her friend. No, I want to be _**her**_.

I want to be a parahuman and if I can't be one, then I want to be around them, to touch power if I can't have it myself. I've studied them. I did my best to learn how they come to be and I discovered that parahumans usually have children who are also parahuman. If I can't be a parahuman, well...then my children can be that way. Yes, I know I'm pretty damn young but I'm willing to deal with a couple years of social censure if it means my children have powers.

It's simply just a matter of evolution, changing with the times. Predators get stronger by choosing strong mates. It's a pity that Sophia doesn't get that. If she had been more social, all we would have to do was make arrangements with one of the boys in the Wards. I know that I wouldn't have minded Aegis with his hunky body but, thanks to Sophia, that well is completely poisoned. They don't trust her, and thus wouldn't trust me. Which means I have to find a parahuman of my own.

I watched as Greg beat the bigger man and tried to play it off. He failed miserably. No one bought it. Fights weren't all about how big and strong you were in Winslow. Sometimes it was about the fight in the dog. Even then, no one beat Mal. Not in a straight fight, at least. It would be impossible for someone as scrawny as Greg to move that fast and knock out someone like Mal, who obviously abused steroids. It was also impossible to be hit as hard and as many times as Greg had been and not receive a single bruise. Impossible...unless you were a cape. I saw that Greg wasn't hurt, wasn't even bothered by Mal's hits. I saw him get up and stop a punch by holding up a single palm. I saw him **win**.

Greg Veder. Yeah, he's a loser but a predator is flexible about it's prey, and I will **capture** him. 


	18. Complications 2-4A

Complications 2.4A

Emily Piggot

Director Emily Piggot sighed as she lifted her head from the rather thick report on her desk. Tonight had been a horror for Brockton Bay. The rising tensions between the E88 and the ABB had been escalating for months and they had finally come to a head tonight. Many low-level members from both gangs had taken to the streets of the Bay, intent on killing each other.

Fighting had quickly spread from parts of the Docks to the Boardwalk, the Trainyard and somehow managed to reach Downtown. Then things got even worse when the Merchants joined in, with Mush and Skidmark in the lead. Oni Lee only increased the bloodshed when he appeared with reinforcements, prompting Victor, Krieg, Alabaster and Cricket to join in. It did not help matters that Lung started burning down the Docks, apparently after undergoing a second trigger which changed his appearance. Brockton Bay was really in it deep tonight.

Then she had received information from a physician concerning the new parahuman Armsmaster had apprehended just a few hours earlier. A parahuman that was reported to have taken down Lung. A parahuman that Armsmaster had tranquilized within a minute of meeting him. Piggot was confused, annoyed, sleep-deprived and very hungry. All bad things on their own. Combined, they made her one very furious woman.

She looked up at Armsmaster, a piercing stare her only expression."Explain."

Armsmaster stood up a little straighter. "What would you like me to clarify, Director? My report was very detailed."

Piggot clasped her hands in front of her as she continued staring at Armsmaster and it was a few moments before she spoke again. "Your report was very detailed, as usual, Armsmaster. You went into specifics on how many E88, Merchant, and ABB members you apprehended, what methods you used in each and every single apprehension, how often you used your halberd, how many tranquilizers you used and an entire page long tangent on how an increased budget could increase your effectiveness against Movers like Oni Lee!"

Armsmaster nodded. "That is correct, Director. Oni Lee's clones are nearly identical to him until their time limits run out. A larger budget would allow me to build a detection system that-"

"That is not the point!," snarled Piggot. "I do not care about your budget. What I care about is the fact that half the Docks have been leveled. What I care about is that Lung has triggered again and is now more powerful than ever. What I care about, Colin, is that the new trigger that we reported at Winslow today is downstairs in the MedBay after defeating Lung with your tranquilizer in his system. Why is that, Colin? And why is that skimmed over in your report when you went into detail on other, less important things?!"

Armsmaster was silent for a few moments, his mouth in a visible frown. "I was unaware that he was a new trigger. I had no information on him prior to our confrontation. Why was I not informed about him?"

Piggot narrowed her eyes at Armsmaster. "There was a small briefing earlier today. We went over new information. You declined to come in but but you still were sent a copy of the information as you were 'too busy preparing contingencies for Lung'."

Armsmaster frowned as soon as Piggot spoke. He had in fact received a packet of information and intended to read it but the gang war had interrupted him.

Piggot wasn't done. "You didn't answer my question. Why did you tranq him?"

"When I approached the scene, the first thing that caught my attention was the damage to the docks. I was cautious about what could have caused Lung to cause such damage to the area. Lung's new appearance and how badly he was damaged..."Armsmaster began a verbal report but trailed off as Piggot held up a hand.

"Stop right there, Colin. I asked you a simple question. I do not need a verbal report. I already have enough on my plate tonight. Just...answer the question," Piggot growled.

"I tranquilized him because he appeared to be belligerent and potentially violent. I noticed the brutality with which Lung was taken down and he believed to have killed him. He seemed disappointed when I told him that was false. He was also at risk of aggravating his injuries, as he was dragging a broken and bleeding leg behind him without care while he was severely burned," Armsmaster answered succinctly.

Piggot's frown only increased as he spoke. What Armsmaster said sounded true...for the most part and she could see how he might feel threatened by someone strong enough to take down an improved Lung, but she had known Armsmaster for years. She knew how he thought, how he spoke. Something was off. Something...wait. How he spoke? "You say he was belligerent? Do you think there may be a reason for that?"

Armsmaster shook his head tersely. "It may be due to his powers. I can't be sure."

Piggot sat back in her chair, eyes merely slits at this point. "Really? You can't be sure? Tell me something, Colin. You spoke to him, didn't you?"

Armsmaster flinched and the action didn't go unnoticed by Piggot. Neither did his silence. Normally, she quite enjoyed putting pressure on a cape that went out of line but this was just another annoyance she didn't need today.

"I attempted to gain some information from him but he became extremely aggressive leading to the incident."

"...Exactly what did you say to him that lead up to his...belligerence?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Piggot leaned forward and gave Armsmaster a look that well expressed the current level of her patience. "I think you know very well what I mean. What did you say to him...exactly?"

"...He was young, without a mask, and severely injured. I simply tried to convince him to keep his head down and not bring undue attention to himself by parading the fact that he defeated Lung. It was part of my attempt to get him to join the Wards. I was also aware that an unknown rookie defeating Lung would make the Protectorate look bad. He didn't even let me finish without resorting to profanity," Armsmaster replied smoothly, not a single hitch in his speech.

Piggot sighed. That all sounded well and good but she felt like she had a much better idea of what happened. "Do you know what we found out about the new trigger, Colin? His name is Greg Veder. He's apparently been bullied by ABB members in Winslow for over a year. He outed himself today, possibly at the same time he triggered but that's not likely as Shadow Stalker was there, retaliating against an E88 member who had been extorting him. He then goes out a few hours later and takes down Lung. His identity has already been exposed to both the E88 and the ABB, two groups that he has reason to hate. There's a good chance we'll be added to that list because of your stunt."

Armsmaster took a step forward, attempting to explain. " I was just trying to-"

Piggot wasn't going to have that.

"No! I know what you were trying to do. We both know what you were trying to do. I don't care if he would have made us look bad. I don't care if he would have made you look bad. He would have probably been happy to join the Wards," Piggot continued, her voice taking a much harsher tone, " Even if he didn't, we could've spun it into something beneficial for us. Now, public opinion is going to be that the Protectorate attacked a young hero who stopped Lung from potentially destroying the entire city on his first outing as a cape and I doubt he's going to want to be part of a team that you are in charge of. This boy took on Lung with no backup and no idea of Lung's second trigger and won. If the public finds out his side of the story and that you tried to take credit for-"

"I didn't-"

"Don't interrupt me! We've worked together a long time, Colin. You can predict my actions in a given situation and I can do the same for you. My point still stands. We can't even pressure him into joining because we'll be flayed alive in the public if we're found out. So we have to lure him. Understand that?"

Armsmaster nodded silently, his jaw tightening as she spoke.

Piggot wasn't satisfied with that. "I said, do you understand that?"

"Yes, I do."

Piggot let out a deep breath through her nose and relaxed back in her chair. "What can you tell me about him? I know you observed him after his fight. Give me something."

Armsmaster sighed and began to speak, his words settling into a rhythm quickly.

"Firstly, his injuries. From what I observed, he had sustained third-degree burns over nearly 75% of his body. Most of his hair had been burnt off and I noticed his skull had been cracked. His right leg was broken and the bones were protruding from his leg. His right arm had been damaged to the point that it was unrecognizable as an arm and he had lost a severe amount of blood," Armsmaster clinically recited the young cape's injuries. "His durability seemed to be on par with Lung's or close enough for it not too matter. I know this because I used one of the special tranquilizers I designed for high level Brutes on him and it barely went past his skin. Regarding his personality, I believe he is highly brutal and most likely prone to excessive force. Upon my arrival, I noticed that Lung had both his eyes gouged out and his skull had been cracked open."

Piggot scoffed and the large woman resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It's Lung. When he's gotten that far, there's no such thing as excessive force. Is that all?"

"No. I studied his injuries and noted that despite them, his functionality barely seemed to be limited. His breathing was not strained. He even seemed to be standing up without much pain despite the fact that his leg should not have supported him."

Piggot nodded."So what you're saying is that he's like...Aegis but...stronger. Redundant but still useful."

Armsmaster paused then nodded. "That is a possibility, yes, but he also displayed a healing factor. After I sedated him, I noticed some portions of his skin repairing themselves but not with any real speed. At he the rate he was healing, he should be in the MedBay for at least a few weeks. "

Piggot made a satisfied grunt.  
"He could be an asset to us in both PR and keeping Brockton Bay safe. That is, if we can get him to join. We've asked Panacea to help with him if she has a spare moment and I've already decided who will be sent to be convince him to join the Wards." She shot Armsmaster a glare as he opened his mouth. "You're not going down there until I say so and even then, only to deliver an apology. Understood?"

Armsmaster grimaced as he nodded, obviously annoyed. Piggot didn't care how annoyed he was. She was the boss and she made the rules. That much was simple.

"I sent a team to bring his mother here to the Rig. She should already be down there as we speak. Miss Militia, Assault, Battery and Clockblocker will meet them after he wakes up," she announced calmly.

Armsmaster's grimace seemed to somehow...intensify without his expression changing a bit. "I can understand Miss Militia and Battery but why Assault and Clockblocker?"

Piggot smirked. "Militia and Battery are for the boy's mother. They're only there to convince her and as women, they'll have an advantage. As for Assault and Clockblocker, we're trying to convince a teenage boy to join us and as we don't have a naked model on staff, who better to convince a teenage boy than another teenage boy and someone who might as well be a teenage boy."

Armsmaster's mouth twitched at that statement but he didn't smile. He was Armsmaster, after all.

-

Susan Veder was a nice, sweet woman.

A sweetie pie that didn't know when or how to say no to people and cared a bit too much. That's how people had described her at least.  
Those people would be right.

She liked caring for people, taking care of them. That's why she had become a nurse. She liked doing what she did. She loved the way people would light up when they realized someone, anyone cared about their pain and wanted to help them. It was one of the things that made her day. She'd be the first to admit that she somewhat resented Panacea but she couldn't help it. Patient's eyes used to light up the second she walked into a room because they knew how much she actually cared about them but that wasn't happening much anymore. When they realized that she wasn't Panacea, their eyes would darken and they'd become a bit...not harsh, but sulky. She really didn't mind. They cleared up once she got them talking. She did wish she had powers like Panacea, though. If she could heal like that, people would leave the hospital as happy as ever.

Even without her patients, there was something else that made her day.

Someone that never failed to put a smile on her face.

Her son, Greg Veder.

They had told her that her son was a parahuman after that team of PRT agents had come to the hospital and asked her to come with them. All it had taken was for one of them to say "It concerns your son" and she was in a PRT vehicle immediately. They had lead her to this room and she had seen him.

She had cried when she saw him lying there.

Who wouldn't?

She was a single mother. She never imagined that something like that would ever happen to her. She had married her high school sweetheart. He was a big, handsome quarterback and she was...well, she was a nerd and while she had gotten prettier after high school, she was nothing compared to the popular girls. But that hadn't mattered back then. He had picked her, picked her over her sister, head cheerleader, and all of the other cheerleaders. She thought they would be together forever. She thought wrong.

Her husband had left her almost three years ago for his little secretary, a girl that was only five years older than her son was. Her son, her beautiful, intelligent baby boy was all she had left to remind her that she was worth something. Something to tell her that her marriage to...that man...was worth something. Greg was her everything and now he lay there, covered head to toe in gauze and...he looked like he was dead. She had nearly fainted.

Agent Whitmore, a female agent and one of the ones that had accompanied her, had stayed with her for a bit and had informed her that her son was a parahuman. A parahuman who had exposed himself at school while defending himself from a bully. A parahuman who had then gone out in the same day to fight a rampaging Lung and then defeated him.

She had nearly fainted again.

That was not her Greg. If his father had gotten powers at Greg's age, she could imagine him doing something like that. He was a brash, overconfident man who had somehow gotten a position as a financial manager despite being a narcissistic bastard with more brawn than brains. Greg did not take after his father. Greg was a sweet, kind boy who was just like her. She had taught him everything while his father was busy working. She told him to be nice to girls and taught him not to get drawn in by the first pretty face he saw and to find a girl with substance, with a brain.

She had taught him all about the old comic books and heroes. She showed him Superman, Spider-Man, Star Wars, Ghostbusters, Indiana Jones, Ferris Bueller, Back to the Future, E.T., The Goonies, Karate Kid, Spaceballs, Beetlejuice, essentially everything she had loved while growing up. In return, Greg had shown her anime, manga, comics as well as new music and movies from Earth Aleph that he had used torrents to download. They had a special relationship, one that Greg's father often derided Greg for, calling him a "mama's boy".

She loved her son. He messed up sometimes but he was a kid. That's what they did. She just didn't understand today.

Susan Veder sat by her son's side as she tried to understand what had lead to this.

She knew he had been different for a few weeks now. He had been more confident and had been exercising almost constantly, coming home with bruises that he had told her had been from boxing at this gym he had been going to. She had believed him. Greg usually told her everything. He had told her when he was being bullied by the ABB and how he had to pay protection money to an E88 member. She had nearly marched down to the school to give the principal a piece of her mind. Greg had told her that all that would do would make it worse. She agreed after some thought. She had been bullied before. She had asked him if he wanted to transfer. He didn't want to leave Winslow. He had friends now. Well...he had Sparky and he didn't want to run away from his problems. Susan was proud of her son even though she didn't like the thought of him being bullied. In the end, all she did was give him extra allowance every week.

Then she had noticed his new physique. This was what really made her pay attention. She was a nurse. She knew how much exercise accomplished what within a certain period of time. Greg had been almost rail thin before and now he was defined and sculpted in under a month. At first she had considered steroids. She had asked him about it and he had smiled with that cute little smile of his and said that his trainer was just awesome like that. She accepted that even though she was more than a tad suspicious. After that, Greg's acne had cleared up, his complexion just changed and his hair looked like he had been to a stylist. She didn't mention it but her suspicion was growing. She had just been so busy working double, sometimes triple, shifts that she hadn't had the energy to question him.

Today had been hell for her. Patients flooded the E.R., suffering from bullet wounds, knife injuries, grenade wounds, and burns. Gang wars had erupted all over the city as tensions between the ABB and E88 reached their limit. People were dying all around her and she couldn't even focus because her husband had chosen today, their anniversary day, to call and tell her that he was sorry. He had then gone into a long statement about something between him and his girlfriend but she didn't pay attention to any of that. He was _sorry._ Susan had a tendency to take personal failures very hard and in her mind, her worst personal failure was her marriage. If only she had done something, maybe, just maybe...her marriage wouldn't have ended. Instead, her husband was admitting guilt and she felt a weight lift off of her...only for it to come crashing down when he spoke about his son.

His two year old son. All this time...she had thought that it had been the girl. She finally understood now. He hadn't left because he was seduced by a girl half her age. He had left because he wanted a new family. A new life, away from the two of them.  
She hung up immediately and spent the rest of the day in a haze. She barely noticed the patients, barely even noticed her coworkers. Hell, she didn't even notice the PRT agents until they were right in front of her nose and said the phrase "It concerns your son". That was all it took. Her baby needed her.

As she sat by his side, his heavily bandaged hand in hers, she wondered what would happen now. It didn't matter. She would always be here for him. If he wanted to be a hero, then she would have his back, no matter wh-

"...mom?"

It was weak. The voice, at least. The hand that gripped hers was unnaturally strong. It hurt, in fact. It hurt a lot. She didn't let that show on her face. Greg was right here in front of her.

She needed to be strong for **him**.

Her precious little baby.

"Mommy's here, Greggy." 


	19. Complications 2-4B

Complications 2.4B

Greg awoke to a sharp pain, 'No, not Pain', a sharp discomfort in his right arm and leg as well as a general itchiness all over his body.  
He wasn't in pain but he did feel...weak. He didn't like it. It felt wrong. There were other sensations that he felt. One of them was an odd sensation of heat in his chest, like a rush of warmth similar to the steam of a hot shower as opposed to the stimulating adrenaline-like rush of Zirin. 'What happened?'

He felt a hand in his own and opened his eyes. White walls, fluorescent lights, odd beeping noises. He was in a bed, obviously a hospital bed. He'd seen plenty of them in his life. He appeared to be wrapped head to toe in gauze, but couldn't remember why he would need to be wrapped up like a mummy. Had he gotten hurt? He really didn't know. He definitely didn't feel hurt enough to need this level of bandaging. His head was too groggy to remember much of anything right now.

Greg heard soft breathing noises and turned to his left, ignoring the rather slight discomfort the movement caused. A very familiar woman in a pair of scrubs sat in a chair right beside him holding his hand. Blonde hair much like his own down to her shoulders. Pale blue eyes and a soft, round face greeted him with a warm look in her eyes. The drowsiness cleared up immediately and he remembered. What he had done, who he had fought,...that fucker who knocked him out. 'Fucking Armsmaster. More like Dicksmaster.'

He had done it, though. He had fought Lung. Oh my god, he had fought Lung! What was he thinking? He could have died. He wasn't ready for a fight like that. Hell, he doubted he could take on Oni Lee and he had fought his boss. He didn't even manage to kill the guy, too! Who survives a super strength heel drop from terminal velocity and then getting your eyes gouged out? That was overkill! Simply fighting Lung had proved why he had his reputation. He was a fucking juggernaut! To make matters worse, he had insulted him...in Japanese!

None of that was important right now, though. What was important was the person in front of him.

"...mom?"

'Mom was here? What was she doing here? Honestly, Where is here?' Greg pushed those questions to the side as he squeezed her hand gently.  
She smiled at him even though Greg could tell she was holding back tears.

"Mommy's here, Greggie."

Her voice was soft and kind to his ears, with all the warmth that only a mother could put into every word. Despite that, he couldn't help but wince as he heard it.  
"Greggie? Really, I thought we were past that, mom. I haven't been Greggie since I was eight," Greg croaked out, his voice still weak.

His mom began to cry, despite the smile on her face still as wide as ever. "You'll always be my Greggie."

Greg sat up and patted his mom's hand with his own, trying to calm her down. "It's okay, mom. Everything's fine." Greg glanced around at the room he was in. It didn't seem like any of the rooms at the hospital. "Where are we, anyway?"

There was a pause before the kind look on Susan Veder's face changed, turning into a glare of fury that only a mother could pull off. "Really, Greg? Is that what you think? Do you really think everything's fine when you're in a hospital bed? I saw your injuries. You could have died. Is that what you think counts as fine?"

Greg shook his head, gaping at his mother's uncharacteristic outburst. "No..."

"Of course, the answer is no. No, Gregory, everything is not fine!" hissed Susan, her eyes narrowed. "Everything is not fine because my son is covered in bandages from head to toe." She stood up and threw her hands into the air. "Everything is not fine because my son just fought Lung and almost died. Nothing is fine," Susan paused and leaned into Greg's gauze covered face until her nose was less than inch from touching his, "because my son is a cape who doesn't trust me at all." With that said, she dropped herself into her seat, the tears in her eyes removing most of the heat from her glare.

With a look of bewilderment on his face, Greg mouthed the word 'Gregory' several times before shaking his head. "Mom, look...he was...look, he was going to kill kids. What else would you want me to do?"

The rest of her anger slid off of her face as she processed the question. "You could have the PRT...or the police...or anything. You didn't have to fight him yourself. Why didn't you run away? Look at you...just...look at you. Does it hurt?" More tears began to fall and she held on to his hands tighter.

Greg sighed. 'Shit, she never gets like this.' "No...mom, not really. I feel fine now."

"Thanks to the Protectorate. You were still bleeding when they brought you to the Rig."

"I can heal, Mom. I think I would have been just fine even if they just threw me in a cell. Seriously, Mom. Even if I did run away, would you really be proud if I let some kids get shot when I could have done something?"

Susan sniffled, tears still streaming down her face. "I...I...what kind of question is that? You're my son. Forget about proud. I don't care if you were the biggest coward in the world. I was just so scared when I saw you. I'd want you to be safe...and alive...before anything else."

Greg smiled at his mom's words. "Mom, I've wanted to be a hero for years, you know that. Before I ever cared about Eidolon or anyone else, you showed me comics and those table RPG's. I wanted to be like Superman and Spider-Man and all those guys since I was a kid, and I did that...tonight. I beat up a giant monster and a supervillain. That's just like Superman."

His mom looked at him for a few seconds, a proud smile creeping on her face, before she finally spoke. "You did do a good job but really? You think you're Superman now?  
Listen...You did great, kid. Don't get cocky."

Greg nodded for a few seconds before his eyes widened in realization. "D-did you just..."

His mother nodded, a big smile on her face as she tried to hold in laughter.

"Forget it. Mom, anyway, I'm really sorry I didn't tell you I got powers. I was waiting for the right moment." He paused as she waved away his apology. "Anyway, you shouldn't be scared, Mom. Don't you remember? Fear is the path to the Dark Side," Greg continued, the smile on his face matching his mother's.

Susan laughed for a few seconds before speaking again. "You've been talking about being a hero for years but you're not an adult yet. Honestly, aren't you a little short for a superhero?

Greg smirked. "I doubt it really matters how old I am. I'm pretty sure I'm one of the toughest capes in Brockton right now. Even if I lose, strike me down, and I will become more powerful than they could possibly imagine."

After Greg finished his sentence, the two couldn't hold it in anymore and started laughing. Greg's ribs ached slightly as he did so but he didn't mind. He missed this. These moments with his mom had been happening less and less ever since his father left and his mother had to work more. He wanted to make his mom happy and being a hero was one of the things he knew that she would love...almost as much as she loved Star Wars, even the Prequels.

Susan's laughter began to slowly die down and she the smile she gave Greg became wistful, almost sad. "You know, your father hated Star Wars. Honestly, he hated almost everything we loved. He thought it was stupid. I was going to name you Lucas Benjamin Veder, you know. Luke Skywalker, Ben Kenobi and Darth Vader all in the same name, heh. Who could pass that up? Your dad decided that he didn't like it and named you after one of his favorite baseball players when he was younger. Greg Luzinski, I think. Yeah, that was it."

Greg looked at his mom oddly, a tinge of anger in his expression. "Why are we talking about him, Mom? You promised we wouldn't talk about him anymore."

She was silent for a bit. When her silence began to reach the minute mark, Greg spoke again, his tone a bit harsh. "Mom?"

"He called me today."

"And you picked up the phone? Why would you do that, mom?" Greg clenched his hands, breaking through the gauze easily and exposing both of his heavily burnt arms and his mangled right hand. "We talked about this. He messes with your head even when he's not here anymore. You're better than him. I told you this already. Don't answer his calls anymore, Mom."

Susan sighed and put her head in her hands. "I know. He hasn't called in a long time but...today...today was our anniversary. I felt a bit down because of how it ended. I just wanted to hear his voice...and then he...he apologized.

Greg sat up even straighter and leaned toward his mother, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open in disbelief. "What."

Greg knew his father. The man was an asshole with a capital ASS. He loved sports; baseball, basketball, football, you name it. He had never cared much about Greg and, honestly, Greg had never really liked his father much either. Rowan Veder was a bit of a workaholic. He loved to work, often staying late. Although, said work usually involved plowing a young, busty and usually blonde secretary of which he had had several. He was charming, Greg did give him that. He usually wormed his way out of situations where he was in the wrong but he never, ever apologized. That would mean he was wrong and Rowan, in his own words, was never wrong.

'This...this makes no sense at all. There's gotta be something else. There has to be. He never apologizes.' Something was up. This made no sense. "Yeah, he's sorry. Right. Like that fixes everything everything he ever did to us. What did he add after that, Mom? Huh? Did he say that maybe if I wasn't such a disappointment, he would have stayed, right? Or maybe if you got the surgery he wanted like his secretaries, he wouldn't have left? Or if you hadn't raised me to be such a nerd, right? Did he add that, huh?" 'Fuckin' dickhead.'

Susan, head still down, only said one word very quietly. "...no."

Greg still couldn't believe it. "Mom, he said he was sorry? Seriously? Are you sure? Him?"

Susan lifted her head for a second and Greg could see the puffy red eyes. She was seriously crying and doing her best to hide it from him. "Yes. He said that he was sorry for cheating on me all those times. He talked about how he should have spent time with us and that he realized he wasn't a good husband to me or a good father to you. "

Greg felt something shift inside him. His fingers twitched and he felt a nervous energy inside himself. He didn't know what to say. His mind was blank and he honestly couldn't decide whether he was angry or...something else. '

"...and then he talked about his new wife and son," Susan added softly.

Greg realized he had decided, after all. He was very angry.

"That fucker!" Greg snarled viciously, his teeth bared.

Susan jumped out of her seat and glared at Greg. "That fucker you're talking about is your father."  
Greg's eye twitched in anger. "No, he's not! That fucker is a walking sperm factory. That's all he does! It's all he's fucking good for! He's probably got tons of kids all over the place!"  
Susan sighed and Greg noticed that she was still tearing up. That just made him even angrier. 'Why the hell is she crying? She shouldn't be sad. She should be angry at that asshole!'

"Mom, ignore him. Forget about him. No...Fuck him. He was shit to you. Hell, he was shit to both of us and he calls you like an apology's going to fix that. No, I don't think he meant to apologize, Mom. He obviously didn't!" Greg's voice began to rise. "No, he knew how you were when he left. You were broken. He left you like that and he knew you loved him. He didn't give a shit about that! You are better than him! He can fuck off!"

Susan's eyes widened like saucers as Greg continued to rant. "Greg..."

"Does he know how hard you worked?! You do like three shifts in a day and you're so tired, you fall asleep on the couch! That doesn't matter to him, though. He thinks that's everything's all right because he apologized?"

"Greg?"

"He can fuck his apology. He can fucking shove that apology up his ass. Fuck it! I'll do it for him! That fucking fuck!" Greg's face darkened with anger. Everything he had ever wanted to say about his father just came spilling out and the more he yelled, the more Greg's words became less legible and more like growls from the throat of a beast. He needed to yell, needed to scream out his frustrations at his father for being the way he was and his mother for letting him walk all over her. His head felt like it was splitting open but he didn't care. He needed her to understand. Why wouldn't she listen?

"Greg!"

"WHAT?!...oh"

Greg took in a sharp breath as he looked around the room. Around him stood four heroes that he was very familiar with. In fact, nearly everyone in Brockton was familiar with them. How couldn't they be? They were always on TV for one reason or another.

Assault stood a few feet away from his bed, his guard up. Battery stood right next to him, the lines on the heroine's costume glowing. Miss Militia stood by the wall opposite his mother, a large shotgun-looking weapon aimed directly at Greg. Clockblocker stood outside the room, the door frame blocking most of his body from sight. Assault and Battery attempted to stare down Greg while Miss Militia kept her large shotgun trained on Greg's torso. Greg just stared at the three heroes, one question racing through his mind. He voiced it.  
"What's this all about?" Greg began to wonder if it wasn't just Armsmaster. Maybe everyone in the Protectorate was a dick. He sent a glance toward Miss Militia. 'Who points a gun at a guy in a hospital bed? Fuckers.'

Battery spoke first. "Power down first and then we'll talk." Her voice was crisp and sharp with a harsh undertone, a command rather than a request. Obviously someone with a short temper.

Her reply only confused Greg. "Power down? What are you even talking about? I don't even think I can power up. My powers are always...?" Greg's sentence trailed off as he looked down at his hands.

The bandages had fallen off both his arms at some point, exposing the bare skin that was there. Skin that had a somewhat translucent aura of red energy floating around it. Skin that was now pink and mostly clear of burns. Greg gaped as his anger gave way to curiosity and a bit of awe, eyes as wide as dinner plates at the sight of his two nearly healed arms. Even his mutilated hand looked almost good as new. 'That's way faster than usual.'

"Sweetie, here." Rifling through her purse for a moment, Susan produced a small compact which she thrust into Greg's outstretched hands.

Greg looked at her oddly for a moment as she gestured towards her face until she spoke. "Look at your eyes."

Raising the small mirror to his face, Greg was surprised to see his irises visibly glowing red. Somewhat similar to Evron's eyes from...the night he had given Greg powers. 'God, that's a scary thought. Boss looked real evil then.' As he looked carefully, the red began to fade, returning to his normal pale blue in seconds. 'Huh, that's a thing, too.'  
Closing the compact with a snap, Greg turned to all of the gathered Protectorate members...and Clockblocker.  
"Sorry, I didn't even know I could do that. I wasn't trying to be threatening or anything."

Battery looked at him for a few seconds before turning to Assault. The male cape simply shrugged and gestured towards Miss Militia. Miss Militia, her expression hidden by the flag scarf around her mouth, quickly looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. Greg and his mother both tilted their heads upward to see several small nozzles of some kind retract back into the ceiling until they were no longer visible. She then stepped forward, her large shotgun dissipating into green energy in her hands. As she walked in front of the group of capes and took point, portraying herself as the one in charge, Clockblocker also slyly sauntered up from behind the door frame until he was right next to Assault.

Greg gave the group a somewhat awkward smile, deciding not to mention the fact that they seemed ready to take him down a few seconds ago. "So...what's up?"

Miss Militia eyed Greg intently, as if waiting for him to say something else. When the silence began to drag on again, she spoke. "Mr. Veder...we at the Protectorate have been informed that you defeated Lung this evening." Her voice was slow and calm, as if talking to a dangerous animal. "I'd just like to confirm that with you. Is that alright?"

Greg's smile faded slightly as he glanced at the heroes in front of him. 'What's up with them? They look so...jumpy. Weird.' "Yeah, I did. It was real hard though. He kept getting bigger so quickly. I don't think the fight lasted longer than...I dunno? Five...maybe ten minutes? Guy was tough, you know? He looked a lot different and he grew so fast."

Miss Militia suddenly looked at Greg with much more interest. "Do you have any insight into why Lung's appearance might have changed like that?"  
Greg shrugged again. "Not really, he just changed after this bug controlling cape drowned him in her bugs. Like, literally drowned him. He was choking on bugs. Really gross. He exploded and turned all his men extra crispy."

This bit of news made everyone in the room pay close attention, including his mom. She was a cape geek, after all. Miss Militia stepped in closer until she was at the foot of Greg's bed. "What can you tell us about this new cape? Was she already fighting Lung when you arrived?"

Greg paused for a second. "No...she attacked Lung like a few seconds after I showed up. I think she thought Lung was going to kill me or something. Lung tried to burn her when he found her and I saved her. Then her team showed up...after I already beat Lung." 'That was really annoying. I could have used help. Who shows up after the fight like that?'

"Wait, her team? Who was she working for? Kaiser? Skidmark?" Battery jumped forward with a...battery of questions.

Greg leaned back slightly. "Uh...no. I haven't heard of them. I think they're new heroes. There was...uh...Grue, Arachne, Regent...uh...Bitch! Yeah, that's it. Bitch and...Tattletale. They had big dog monster things too."

"Are you sure that's all you know? Nothing else?" Battery leaned in closer and her voice had a sharper edge to it. Greg might have felt intimidated...if he hadn't just faced off against Lung.

"If I do know anything else, I don't remember," Greg replied smoothly.

Battery visibly slumped as Greg spoke and Assault stepped up, chuckling slightly. "Those aren't heroes, kid. They're a bunch of young small-time villains called The Undersiders. Puppy here got excited because she thought you might have some intel on any new capes the Brockton 3 got, not the kiddie gang you met up with." The male cape laughed a bit more until a peeved Battery elbowed him, interrupting his laughter. Behind the two of them, Clockblocker snorted quietly.

Greg was a bit confused at that. "Villains? But they were pretty nice, though. Arachne even helped me fight Lung and everything." 'That pretty one even helped me up.'

Assault clicked his tongue. "I don't know what to tell you, kid. She was probably trying to save her own ass...OW, Puppy!"

Battery didn't even turn to face him as she elbowed him again. "Language."

Miss Militia restrained the urge to roll her eyes at the married couple's antics. She did let out a small sigh, though. "Mr. Veder, the Protectorate would like to thank you for apprehending Lung. In his new state, he might have been a threat to the entirety of Brockton Bay as a whole."

Greg smiled and opened his mouth to say something when a stray thought crossed his mind.

"Wait! Where's Armsmaster? He shot me with a tranquilizer and he tried to take credit for beating Lung!," Greg said, raising his voice a bit. At his side, his mom raised her eyebrows in surprise.

As Miss Militia, Assault and Battery exchanged odd looks, Clockblocker leaned over slightly. "What."

Greg nodded confidently. "Yeah, he tried to take credit for Lung and then when I called him on it, he shot me!"

Susan looked shocked. "He shot you?!"

Greg nodded.

Susan turned to the adult heroes. "Armsmaster shot my son?!"

Miss Militia raised her hands up. "Ms. Veder, I assure you that whatever methods Armsmaster used, he only used them because he believed that, in that current situation, they were the most effective and beneficial."

"How is Armsmaster shooting my son 'beneficial'?!"

Clockblocker snorted at that last statement and let out a chuckle, then another and another and another until he was nearly doubled over with laughter. As everyone in the room turned to look at the young Ward that was doing a remarkable impression of a hyena, Clockblocker slowed his laughter, but by no means did he stop. "What? Come on, you guys know Armsmaster would do that if it was for 'Efficiency'. I mean, just imagine it." Clockblocker puffed out his chest, stood up straight and tried to make his voice deeper, which still wasn't that deep but he tried. "Hmm, Lung's down and that guy over there looks pretty beat up. I'll tranq both of them and figure it out later. Efficient! Hmm, I brought Lung in. Technically, that means I defeated him. Efficient! Hmm, take a shower or pee? Why not both? Efficient!" With that, he lost himself in laughter again. "Come on, it makes sense, kinda."

Assault started to snort and snicker until he was chuckling right besides Clockblocker. That is, until Battery slammed an elbow into his ribcage. "Ouch...Come on, it's funny. Kid's got a point."

The two male heroes laughter slowly died away as both Battery and Miss Militia shot them glares simultaneously.

Greg frowned. "Look, all I really want from Armsmaster is an apology. As long as he says he's sorry, we're cool."

Clockblocker snorted again and Assault's lip began to quiver. Miss Militia flinched and Battery made an odd noise that sounded like a strangled gasp. "...Well," began Miss Militia, "in response to any actions Armsmaster might have taken in that situation, he most likely tried to follow protocol and-"

"Since when is it Protectorate protocol to shoot first and ask questions later?", Susan Veder questioned.

Miss Militia winced again. "I understand how you might both feel about this situation. Ms. Veder, Mr. Veder, I promise that I will bring this matter to the Director personally. If she feels that Armsmaster was in the wrong, she will make attempts to rectify the issue and Armsmaster will give you a personal apology." In the background, Clockblocker let out another small chuckle.

A simple shrug was Greg's response. " I guess that's cool. Mom?" At his side, his mother nodded calmly.

Miss Militia sighed at Greg's response, seeming relieved. "Well, there is one more thing we'd like to talk to you about, Mr. Veder, and you as well, Ms. Veder."

Greg sat up in his bed. "What?"

"On behalf of the Protectorate East North East, the four of us would like to formally invite you to join the Wards. Young parahumans are-"

"Wait just one minute!", his mother interjected, a small frown on her face. "He just fought Lung! Do you know how badly he's injured? He's burnt all over, suffered several torn muscles and ligaments and the bones in his right leg are shattered. He's in no condition to do anything, let alone join-" "Uh, Mom?" "Huh?" Susan paused her tirade to look over at her son, who had taken the liberty to unwrap the bandages on his torso and face. Despite some patches of bruising and burnt scar tissue, Greg's chest was mostly healed. His hair had still suffered greatly as the sides were gone, leaving him with a rough Mohawk. "Yeah, Mom, I'm pretty good, actually. My leg's still wrecked, yeah, and I feel kinda banged up but nothing that'll kill me."

"Don't even worry about that, man," Clockblocker replied, "I heard Panacea's heading down here to give you a hand. She helps out the Protectorate like that all the time. Besides, the Wards are real cool with her and Glory Girl. Sometimes, Glory Girl helps us out on patrols. I bet you two would be friends. You're both blonde Alexandria Packages. We could all hang out after kicking some criminal butt."

Greg smirked. "That does sound kind of cool."

"Yes, the Wards do have a lot of fun," Miss Militia added. As she continued, her tone changed, the lightheartedness disappearing to be replaced by seriousness. "Besides that, Mr. Veder, there is something more urgent that we need to address with you and your mother. Due to your unfortunate outing at Winslow, it is likely that every major gang in the city is currently aware of your parahuman status. You and your mother could be in danger of being attacked by the ABB or being forced into the Merchants. With your...appearance being something that Kaiser would approve of greatly, there is no doubt that Kaiser will make every attempt to force you into the Empire. The Protectorate would like to help you and your mother avoid this from happening."

"If I join you, right?" Greg replied, his eyebrow raised.

Assault chuckled a bit, a smile visible beneath his visor. "Well, yeah. I mean, look at it from our side. For all we know, you could be a wanna-be villain. We'd love to help, kid, but the Protectorate is a government agency. You have to work with us if you want our help. I mean, if we help you out, and then you start doing stuff that isn't on the level, it's gonna be our fault for helping you. It's life, man."

Miss Militia sighed. "While I wouldn't have phrased it quite like that, Assault is right. We need you working us with you for us to help you. It's also a matter of resources. If you're not part of the Wards, and we're helping you, then that's resources that can't go to the person that actually wants to join."

His mom patted his shoulder and he turned to face her. "What do you think, Mom?"

Susan gave him a small smile. "Well...you've always wanted to be a hero and...I really think the Wards could help you out. On the other hand, the gangs might already know who you are. So they could still find us either way but the PRT could help us with protection. I think it's up to you."

'The gangs know who I am. That's true. I could join the Protectorate but I could also join New Wave. My whole thing fits their theme...but the Boss did say we would be a team...but what about Mom? Could he...maybe?'

"Honey?"

" ?," Miss Militia questioned.

Greg paused as he came to a decision. "I honestly think that-" Greg halted his sentence as someone opened the door to the room.

"Excuse me, they told me that my patient was in this room...Am I interrupting something?"

A white robe with a red cross emblazoned on the front, brown hair, freckles and a white scarf hanging around her neck. 'Panacea.'

Miss Militia nodded in greeting. Battery sent a smile at the young healer. Assault waved at her, a big smile on his face.

Clockblocker waved as well, albeit lazily. "Hey, Amy."

"Clockblocker," she replied slowly. "Vicky said she's still gonna punch you for last time."

"What? She's still mad about that. Why? It was just a joke," Clockblocker said in a slightly panicky tone.

"Freezing her? Maybe. Freezing her and stealing her fries? No." Turning to face Greg, she gave him a tired smile. "Hi there, I'm Panacea. Do I have your permission to heal you?"

"Go ahead," answered his mom.

Greg simply stared at her. This was Panacea. She was THE healer. The best that anyone, anywhere, could hope for. She handled cancer, missing limbs, incurable diseases! And she was here for him. 'Awesome...'

"...Excuse me!"

Greg snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

She sent him what could have been a glare if she put some actual anger into it, instead of just exasperation. "I said, do I have your permission to heal you? Since you're awake and in your right mind, _hopefully,_ I need your permission and not your mother's to heal you."

Greg nodded hurriedly. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

She reached a hand outward and touched Greg's arm...and frowned. "Huh..."

"What?," asked Greg. His mother tilted her head, staring at Panacea while she healed her son.

Panacea scrunched up her face. "I'm not getting...anything from you...," Panacea replied, her hand still on Greg's arm.

"You mean you can't heal him?" Battery asked. Clockblocker tilted his head. "Amy, you really can't heal him?"

"No...well, yes but...he feels...fuzzy, I guess. I can't get a clear picture of his insides. Wait...," Panacea's eyes widened as she paused.

"What? What is it?" spoke Greg and his mother almost in unison.

Miss Militia stepped towards Panacea, a concerned look in her eyes. "Panacea, is there something wrong?"

Panacea turned and gave Miss Militia a tired smile that seemed off, somehow. "No, I'm fine. I think I was just tired. I can handle his injuries now." As she said it, Greg saw the small portions of scar tissue on his chest and arms disappear and felt the damaged muscles reknitting themselves. As the bones in his right leg shifted back into place, the torn skin came back together and the last of the discomfort faded away, Greg sighed in relief.

"Wow...thanks. I feel a lot better," Greg said with a grin at the frizzy haired girl.

Panacea returned his smile and yawned. "No problem. It only took a few minutes."

Greg shook his head. "No, seriously. Thank you. You didn't have to come help me. I owe you one." By his side, his mother nodded, smiling at Panacea.

"It's just what I do. Nice to meet you." She smiled at the two of them and nodded at the four Protectorate heroes before leaving the room.

Sitting up, Greg turned toward the four heroes still waiting for his answer.

"I was thinking about what I wanted to do and at first I was about to join the Wards, cause I mean, who wouldn't want to be part of a hero team, right? But then I thought about it and I realized that I can't just decide on the spot like this. Miss Militia, do you mind if I think about the offer for a bit? I don't want to rush into anything, you know," Greg said, the smile on his face somewhat nervous.

Miss Militia nodded slowly. "That's completely fine, Mr. Veder. The offer still stands. If you're intending to leave now, there should be some clothes under your bed. We stock them for situations like this."

The four of them began to walk out until Clockblocker suddenly whipped around. "Wait! Do you have a cape name yet? Cause I'm pretty sure they're planning on giving you one and it's probably gonna suck. That's why I made mine up. It's the best name, isn't it?"

Assault snorted. "The best? Really?"

Clockblocker looked up at the only adult male in the room. "Instant brand recognition. Who's gonna forget a name like Clockblocker?," he replied smugly, arms crossed.

Assault opened his mouth and closed it quickly. "Point." Behind the both of them, Battery groaned.

"Uh...I already have a name," Greg replied, "Superior."

"Are you sure that name hasn't already been taken?," Miss Militia asked curiously.

Greg let out a slow breath. "Well...It used to belong to a villain down in Texas but...he died so...yeah, it's mine now."

"Well, I think you should change it. Taking a villain's name doesn't exactly scream Hero," Battery replied. "In fact, it gives off the opposite impression. It also sounds really arrogant Besides, what are people in Brockton Bay going to to think of a blond blue eyed hero with a name like Superior with the Empire running around?"

Greg shrugged. "Look, I doubt anyone's gonna care about me using the name of a villain from Texas that nobody remembers. If they do, then that's stupid. Besides, Superior doesn't sound that much more arrogant than Glory Girl and I'm pretty sure that when they see me fighting Nazis, nobody's gonna think I'm one of them. Look, it took me a while to find this name, a good one that someone wasn't already using. I'm not gonna give it up."

Battery scowled and Assault smirked. "Well, you'll make a good hero, kid. You've definitely got the balls...OW! Come on, it was a compliment."

Miss Militia's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Well, thank you, Superior. We hope that you'll make the decision to join the Wards. We'd be glad to have you. Thank you, Ms. Veder, for deciding to support your son's decisions. Many parents act as if their children never changed at all. We'll be leaving now."

When the door closed and the heroes were gone, Greg turned to his mother to say something but froze as he realized something that filled him with dread.

His mom was not oblivious to the look of horror on her son's face and she reacted accordingly. "Greg. what is it? What's wrong? Did Panacea mess up? Are you hurt? What is it?"

Greg's hands patted his head, feeling the ragged Mohawk that served as the remnants of his once glorious mane.

"I forgot to ask her if she could fix my hair!," Greg cried out.

Susan Veder nearly cracked a rib during the ensuing fit of uncontrollable laughter.

-  
Nearly Thirty Minutes Later

"So, you're telling me this 'Superior' has a Master rating as well?" Emily Piggot questioned gruffly.

Miss Militia nodded firmly. "That is correct, Director. It caused me to feel intimidated and nervous and I felt oddly...trigger happy. I ended up making a weapon that I've never used before. A CZ550 with an elephant gun cartridge."

"Battery, did you notice the same effect as Miss Militia?" Piggot asked, purposely ignoring Assault. She did not need his verbal report as it was usually interspersed with stupid jokes and puns.

"Yes, Director Piggot," Battery replied firmly. "When we arrived in his room, he was visibly angry. All of us felt extremely tense and intimidated. Miss Militia immediately materialized an...elephant gun. Clockblocker was outright terrified. He responded by hiding behind the door frame. When we entered the room, I instructed him to power down. He was confused at first but once he realized his actions, the effect dissipated but did not fully disappear until his eyes stopped glowing red. We also determined that his healing factor accelerated during that period."

Clockblocker cleared his throat rather loudly before he put in his own two cents. "Um, I'd just like to add that I wasn't terrified. I heard this guy had almost killed Lung 2.0 and I was just-"

Piggot had heard enough. "Clockblocker!",she said, almost snarling. God, she hated that name! It was annoying having to say it, almost as annoying as having to deal with the owner of said name.

He got the message. "Shutting up now."

"So he's similar to Aegis and Glory Girl in abilities. Interesting," she said to no one in particular.

"Um...I think there's something else you should know about him," spoke a small, tired voice.

Director Piggot sat at her desk, arms folded in front of her, as she stared at the five heroes in front of her. Four of them were here because she had called them in order to debrief them about the new parahuman they had recently spoken to. The fifth had shown up requesting to speak with her and Piggot would prefer not to have Panacea upset with the Protectorate for whatever reason, so she had obliged the small request.

"Panacea, was there something you noticed?"

The robed girl nodded. "Just before I healed him, I was able to get information about his biology."

"And?" Piggot

"He's not a parahuman."

She was not regretting that decision.

Piggot tilted his head curiously. "I'm sorry? Did you say that he's not a parahuman? We have several reports of him displaying abilities."

Panacea shrugged. "I can scan brains. I can't affect them but I can scan them. I know what a Corona Pollentia and a Gemma feel like. They may be different in every parahuman but they give off the same feeling. His brain was different, yes. It was more...organized, faster, I guess, than a normal person's. His motor system was amazing, really. But everything else was much worse. His amygdala and emotional processing was so screwed up that when the slightest bit of epinephrine, adrenaline, enters his system, his fear and pain reactions are just gone and his anger. His hypothalamus barely regulated his anger. He has no control over it...at all. Extreme, murderous anger. He's also really prone to addiction and impulsiveness. All of that and he had no Corona or Gemma."

Panacea continued to speak, breathing heavily and talking faster with every word. "I mean, his body was like Aegis but more limited. More like a regular human on the inside. But he had a bunch of organs that I couldn't even understand their purpose. His bones and muscles were denser than someone his size should be by more than half but they were all much stronger than they should be. So much stronger and they were working with me when I was healing him. Not like other capes with healing factors. I have to make their body follow my instructions. I was healing him and his healing was copying me. Some of what his body was made of. They weren't normal...I don't even know what they were made of. It's crazy. His strength, his speed, his stamina, his durability, hearing, vision, smell. His skin was...perfect. Like dirt barely stuck to it. Everything about him was not normal and his body structure was impossible. He's not a parahuman but he has powers and nothing about him was right. That's not even getting into his DNA. His DNA was...half of it wasn't human, like at all. It was so complex, like an octuple helix. And five percent of it made no sense. I would say that he's the final stage of human evolution but he's not even human...at least not anymore. He was...he was almost...no...he was." A gleeful smile crossed her face, as if she had finally understood something. "It makes sense now. Of course, no wonder. Oh God." The smile disappeared to be replaced by shock.

Clockblocker patted the girl on the shoulder. "Hey, Amy, are you all right? I mean, his body seems off but capes have weird bodies sometimes. I mean, look at Aegis."

Panacea took a deep breath to prevent her voice from shaking. "You guys don't get it at all. He was designed. Someone **made** him! He's like the perfect inhuman soldier. No pain, no fear, a healing factor, super strong and fast. Some of it makes no sense, like the weakness to addiction and the impulsiveness but I guess the anger makes some sense. Anger like that could make it easy to kill someone. Someone had to have created him...that or they modified him but I don't know how you modify someone like that without killing them."

Everyone sat there in silence just processing the bombshell the girl had just dropped on all of them.

Piggot was stone-faced as she took in what Panacea said. The thought that someone could create a parahuman of that level had nearly given her flashbacks. Someone was out there with the ability to turn people into capes with the power to take down Lung. This was...this was almost worse than Nilbog. Almost.

"Thank you, Ms. Dallon, for your information. Assault, Battery, please escort her home. Miss Militia, please contact Armsmaster for me. He appears to have locked himself in his lab. Inform him that I wish to speak to him and tell him to contact Dragon." As everyone else left her office, she realized that one more person was still in the room. "Clockblocker...go do something."

"Yes, sir, ma'am!" he responded, running out of her office.

Piggot didn't respond to his childish attempt at humor. The boy didn't understand how serious this was. If he did, she might have had some minuscule level of respect for him. She was focused on more important...more critical matters. There was someone in this city with the power to do what she feared most and they weren't behind a wall, at peace with their own small, monstrous kingdom. They were free to roam within her city, doing whatever they felt like and creating...super-soldiers. Whoever this new player was, they had to be stopped at all costs...before her city paid the price.

_

This chapter took me forever. Especially the Characterization for Battery and Assault. I know nothing about them except that Assault is basically Mini-Accelerator. used to be a breakout specialist called Madcap, Battery caught him after a bazillion tries and he cut a deal and got married to Battery. Battery...bought powers from Cauldron. That's about all I know about her. And she used to be a Ward.

Thank you to my Betas;  
LordCirce  
Cherico  
Mohamud


	20. Complications 2-5A

**I recommend that you read over the Information on Titanwatch or skim the Glossary or some parts might be confusing.**

 **Complications 2.5A**

"...Greg..."

"...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

"...Hey, buddy..."

"...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

"Come on, Greg..."

"...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

"Wake up, man...it's me..."

"...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

"Greg! Wake up!"

"...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

"...Fine, have it your way. **GREG!"  
**  
"AHHH!" Greg Veder jolted awake and rolled out of his warm, comfortable bed, his comforter wrapping around his body like a hastily prepared burrito. Breathing heavily from the sudden shock, Greg looked up to see the grinning face of one Evron Grey, his white hair a dead giveaway. "Oh...you, what...what time is it?" Greg said with a yawn. 'What does he want now?'

"Yeah, me. It's twelve in the morning. Your mom left like five hours ago for work. You really should tell her about me, you know. Nice hairdo, by the way. Anyway, you're still in bed. What's up with that?" Evron questioned, still grinning.

"Mom said it'd be a good idea for me to lay low for a bit. So, no school, no going out to hero. I didn't mind. And no, we're not telling her until you actually go out in public and show people who you are. And shut up about my hair," Greg said with a scowl, using his one free hand to touch the rough Mohawk he now had in place of his once golden mane. He looked like a punk rocker and he hated it. "Why'd you wake me up, anyway?"

"I just want to talk to my buddy. I heard you got into a bit of a scuffle last night. Wanna tell Big Bro Ev all about it?"

Greg glared at Evron as he took steps to carefully extricate himself from the cloth based cocoon that he was currently bundled in without ripping the cloth. As he finally got himself free, he stood up. "First of all, it was not a scuffle, okay. It was a fight for my life."

Evron shrugged as he zipped up his sleeveless blue and black hoodie. "Call it what you will, a tussle, fight, struggle, brawl, skirmish, fracas, rumpus, melee, donnybrook, whatever. Just tell me what happened. I want to hear it from you."

Greg sighed. "Well, I met Lung and he tried to kill me. He stabbed me...through your bulletproof costume. I healed up then this bug controlling girl tries to help me out by shoving bugs down his throat. He tries to kill her. I save her with a force field...cause I can make those. Did you know that I could make those? Cause I didn't. Anyway, he's huge at this point with like spikes and shit. Guy burns me really badly and I used a finishing move on him. I jumped really high and I did a heel kick on him at terminal velocity. His skull split open, my leg shattered and then I stabbed him...in the eyes."

As Greg finished his story, Evron stared at him with a wide grin on his face. "Yeah, I know the costume's bulletproof but I'm pretty sure Lung's got a bit more power behind him than bullets. Honestly, though, wow...you did great for your first night out. All I did on my first night was get beat up by a small-time gang. Someone had to bail me out. One thing though, I wouldn't recommend escalating to killing this early in your career. Stabbing someone in the eyes tends to lead to death. Just a tip."

Greg frowned. "Uh, thanks for the tip. I'll make sure not to gouge out anymore eyes," Greg replied sarcastically before a curious expression appeared on his face.  
"I gotta ask you something, though. Last night, things were really weird. I was doing math in my head and thinking a lot, zoning out from the fight. I wasn't scared at all and I was really into fighting Lung. I was trying to make him angrier so he could get bigger. I was...just...fighting like a crazy person. I was laughing, man, and after the fight, when I was at the Protectorate Base, I was so angry that my head hurt. What's that about?"

Evron opened his mouth and closed it as he stared at Greg with a strangely serious look on his face. "I never explained that to you? At all? The day I gave you powers?"

Greg shook his head. "No, you were busy trying to keep me from jumping around like a squirrel on crack."

"Yeah, you were really hyperactive that first day," Evron said with a bit of a smile. "That's normal, though. Okay...um...to explain the weirdness in your thoughts, well, first, your brain is still thinking at a much faster rate than the rest of your body can react to. For the anger and everything else, let me...shit...I have to do this whole thing. Sia, bring up the Kor default video. Projector one."

Evron removed a small disk from his silver armband that was roughly the size of a quarter and tossed it on the ground. A second later, it beeped and a holographic image of a tall, muscled, blonde man with red eyes wearing nothing but underwear appeared from the device. Every few seconds, it would cycle between him running, leaping and throwing a tank like it was was weightless, all in his underwear. "First things first, I told you that you were an Evolved, right? Did I ever explain what that means?"

Greg stared at the looping video, imagining him in place of the blonde in the footage. It wasn't that hard. They were both wearing roughly the same amount of clothing. "...Yeah, you told me that an Evolved is a type of metahuman. A metahuman is a normal human that develops a power-set that best fits their mindset or need at the time," Greg recited.

Evron shook his head from side to side slightly. "Yes...and...no. An Evolved is a metahuman, yes. A created metahuman. A meta that I create. Evolved are made from a mix of Royal Kheran DNA, which is what this half-naked blonde is, metahuman DNA and a little something extra. All of that is found in my bloodstream."

Greg made a confused face at Evron. "So, what's a Royal Kheran? A type of cape from your universe?"

Evron clicked his tongue. "No...Kherans or Khorathians, if you want to get technical, are aliens. Former planet conquering, genocidal aliens. Royal Kherans are a ruling class above Noble Kherans and regular ones. They're like regular Kherans but stronger, faster, better...really. They also have a habit of being bloodthirsty, battle crazy, dominant and very, very angry."

Greg gaped and took a few steps backward from the image. "And you turned me into one of them?!"

Evron stepped forward, arms raised. "Greg, I didn't turn you into one of them. You're only half Kheran. The rest of you is human...mostly."

Greg scowled at Evron and glared at him furiously. "Oh, that's so much better. I'm so relieved that I'm only half of a crazy alien," he replied, the sarcasm dripping. "If they're so alien, why do they look...so...so...normal?"

"Well, no one really knows. Blame whatever. Anyway, Kherans were cavemen type aliens who were pretty much abducted by a higher species called the N'uovo. After some generations of genetic alteration, the original Kheran was made, looking a lot like eight feet tall, massively built bodybuilders to be the perfect working class. Brown hair, brown eyes, strong, semi-stupid, and loyal, like giant dogs really."

"But he doesn't look like that. He looks-"

"I'm getting there. Anyway, after working for these guys for however many centuries, a mutant was born. His name was Khorath and he was different from the others. Smarter, stronger, faster and much less docile. He and his family and several hundred of their species were working on a cargo ship when he was insulted and struck by one of the N'uovo they were sold to. It didn't hurt him but it did make him angry. Apparently, the N'uovo didn't realize that their alterations were a bit too effective. They knew how strong their slaves were but they never realized how durable they were or how pain didn't really bother them when they went berserk. Either that or they figured they made them docile and stupid enough. They weren't. In short, Khorath lead his people on a massacre of every single N'uovo on the cargo ship and none of the N'uovo weapons were strong enough to kill them. Hurt them, yeah, but not put them down for good. Then Khorath and his people realized they didn't know how to pilot a ship and crash-landed on a giant planet that was basically filled with giant killer animals."

"I don't see how this-"

"Greg, do me a favor and shut up for five minutes. Okay?"

Greg scowled. "I didn't ask for a history lesson, though. I just wanted to know-"

"I'm getting there! Are you the type of guy who watches the last ten minutes of a movie first? Come on, man," Evron replied, obviously exasperated by the interruption.

"Where was I? Anyway, most of the slaves died in the crash and to the killer animals and in about ten years, only four hundred and fifty of them were left, most of them women and children because the men went out hunting. Anyway, Khorath and a group of about one hundred men came in contact with a basically omnipotent being...no...asshole...let's call him an asshole, inside of a cave pool. This omnipotent asshole was just chilling there as a giant glowing white crystal for who knows how long. It was the reason that the planet was so hellish and death-worldy with all of it's megafauna. When Khorath and his men drank from the glowing water in the cave pool, almost half of them died after a few hours.

"Only Khorath and fifty-five other men survived whatever the water did to them. They were stronger, faster, smarter, tougher and their hair and eye color had changed. Khorath had gained red eyes and blond hair and while he had previously been ten times as strong as any of them, that strength had increased proportionally. They headed back home and brought the women and children to the pool and did the same. Many died. Others survived and were changed for the better. They ended up worshiping the omnipotent asshole," Evron said with a scowl.

"Anyway, after hundreds of years, they had found their way back to the N'uovo homeworld somehow, committed genocide, rescued their people, and took all the tech the N'uovo had. They ended up doing this to almost every known species in their galaxy out of fear of being enslaved again, learning how to externalize the energy inside of them into blasts and improving their inhuman abilities by leaps and bounds until they were essentially godlike. Khorath died after 400 years of ruling, killed by his son, Kheran, in a spar. After hundreds of thousands of years of conquering systems and genocide on those who continued fighting, they mellowed out and created a galactic government, letting every species who wanted to leave the Kheran Empire leave.

"The modern Royal Kheran looks like this guy here," Evron continued, gesturing to the hologram, "red eyes and blond hair with some variations in skin tone. Kherans, despite their new mellowness, are still a species that prides dominance and power and hate weak wills. Kherans love to fight. It's in every part of their culture. Exercise, marriage, friendship, dating. It's ingrained into their system like the idea of love is in human culture. The only Kherans that don't fight are the Monks and it'd be scary as fuck if they did," Evron continued, chuckling softly.

Look, every Kheran has an ability called Bloodrage, where they lose themselves in rage and get stronger, faster and heal much quicker at a cost of their higher brain function, the fight being the only thing that matters. That's probably what you experienced the night before. We have to get that under control soon, okay. The average Kheran male runs about five hundred miles an hour and can lift up to five hundred tons. Right now, your speed is half that and your strength is barely five percent of that. That's going to change and it's going to change quickly. It's scary enough when someone who can dead lift five hundred tons loses it like that, okay? You have royal Kheran blood, man. I have that same blood. Two and a half million tons is the average Royal Kheran adult, Greg...with no training. Imagine someone capable of that losing their shit. Royal Kherans are gods to their people for a reason."

Greg gulped and backed away, his breathing becoming fast. "You're joking, right? Please be joking. Seriously, I need you to be joking."

Evron shook his head slowly.

"Why? Why would you? I didn't want this. I never wanted this. This is...this is too much. I can't...I can't breathe. I can't breathe...," Greg wheezed, staring at his own two hands.

Evron walked forward and put an arm on Greg's shoulder. "Greg, look, I gave boosts almost like yours to almost all my friends," Evron began calmly, his voice soft and placating. "The difference is that you didn't already have powers so I had to up the ante a bit. The Kherans were a bit off but they were also masters at controlling their emotions. You'll be fine. Mine was a good deal worse. All you need is some meditation, relaxation and emotional-"

"No!" Greg screamed, pushing Evron back. "...what...what...what...What the fuck were you thinking?! You can't just drop that kind of power on me!," Greg snarled, his eyes glowing red and spit flying as he screamed. "Okay, Greg, here, you want powers, right? Here's a shit load of them! Don't worry, nothing's wrong with them. Oh, they feel kinda weak, huh? Don't worry, you'll get stronger and STRONGER AND STRONGER CAUSE YOU'RE NOT HUMAN ANYMORE! YOU'RE A FUCKING ALIEN NOW, GREG! AN ALIEN AND A SUPERHERO! A FUCKING ALIEN SUPERHERO WITH SPACE NAZI DNA! DON'T WORRY, YOU'LL MELLOW OUT! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING POWERS AND YOUR FUCKING FUTURE SHIT!"

Evron didn't say anything. He stood there, letting Greg get all his frustrations out.  
After Greg had finished, he only had one thing to say. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't smile. The expression on his face could only be described as cold.  
He simply stared Greg's blazing red eyes down with his cool blue ones. "Do you want me to take them away?," he said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.

Greg heard it just as well as if Evron had shouted at the top of his voice.

A look of fear appeared on his face unbidden and he shuffled backwards until the wall prevented him from going any further. "No...no...please. Don't take them, please. I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean it, really. Don't...please...," Greg said, just barely preventing his voice from wavering.

'He...he can do that? Can he really take them back?'

Evron stepped closer and Greg flinched as he stood nose to nose with him, Evron's cold eyes staring into his own. "Are you saying that because you're actually sorry or do you just not want me to remove your powers? Be honest."

'My powers...can't lose my powers..can't lose them...can't lose them.' Greg stared into Evron's eyes and swallowed deeply. "I...don't want to lose my powers."

Evron stepped back, a small smile on his face. "And why is that, Greg? You were just so angry about having them but now you're begging me not to take them away. Why is that, you think?"

Greg looked at his feet, back still against the wall. "I don't know,"he mumbled softly.

"I know you didn't mean to say what you did. It was the Rage. I also know why you were freaking out, Greg," his smile became a wide grin, showing off his rather sharp teeth. "Regular humans live weak, frail lives. They are never free from pain, tiredness or general weakness. Sickness, agony, fear. That's how they know that they're alive. You know what it's like to be free from that. For the past month, that weakness has been leaving your body, allowing you to reach greater heights. Last night, you were alive...truly alive. You expressed your power and defeated a powerful enemy like an ancient hero. Perseus, Hercules, Samson. You stood where they stood. You felt that power rushing through your veins. Losing that would be torture, right?"

Greg, enraptured by his words, nodded slowly.

"I've gone through the exact same thing, Greg, but it was much worse for me. I lost myself to my anger, to all my emotions. That's what Bloodrage does to you when you don't control it. I was a terror...and then I lost my powers. I had powers since I was...five and then...they were gone. I didn't know what to do. Because of that, I acted out. I pushed away my friends, my family, my girl. I did some bad things, Greg. I was lost. Nobody had ever lost their powers before. I didn't have anyone else to help me through it because they didn't know what I was going through. The weakness I felt. You know that weakness. You were pushed around because you were weak. All of them pushed you around, the popular kids, the bullies, the gangs..."

"My dad...," Greg said softly.

Evron gave him an odd glance at that. "...yeah...your dad. They thought you were weak. They thought you were pathetic. There are people who don't think that. You have your mom, Greg and...and...Sparky, yeah. You also have me, Greg. Don't forget that. I'm not gonna hold your hand but I will always be there when you need my help. You remember what I promised you that night I gave you these powers. You're gonna fix this world and I want to help you. These emotions you feel, I feel them too, Greg, but control is very important to being a real hero. In fact, it's rule number one when it comes to strength like ours and part of strength is about learning to control yourself. I need you to trust me, Greg. Do you trust me?"

Greg looked up, tears in his glowing red eyes. "Yeah, I do." 'I really do.' "Thanks, boss."

Evron grinned even wider, his unnaturally sharp, white teeth gleaming. "No problem. Now, let's talk about your powers. You had some more questions for me, right?"


	21. Omake 1: Greg Joins The Wards

Greg joins the wards or In which shadow stalker hates Greg's training montage. (Non-Canon)

Created By X-777TheReQUium«»Tm

* * *

"Uhh...Hi, I'm Superior. It's nice to meet you," said Greg as he looked around at the his fellow wards, his golden and white costume gleaming. He had decided that if he was going to join the Wards, he was going to make the best first impression possible. The boss had even made him a brand new costume, actually designed for someone of his weight class. It was a more impressive version of his old one. Despite his new outfit, he was still a little nervous as he was a bit unsure of how to act around them. They had been heroes for years and he was just a rookie. A rookie that had taken down Lung, but still...one night of fighting does not a hero make.

"Hey, Superior, its nice to meet you, I'm Vista," said the blonde and bubbly young heroine. "You've already met Clockblocker," she continued, pointing towards a boy in a white, clock themed, armored costume. "And that's Shadow Stalker," she said with a voice tinged with a hint of distaste as she pointed to a dark skinned girl in a black costume cleaning a crossbow. "Gallant, Kid Win and Aegis are out right now. You can meet them when they get back from patrol."

Shadow Stalker walked over, her steps determined and her posture dripping with arrogance. Despite her somewhat aggressive bearing, she seemed to be studying Greg as she gave him a quick once-over. "So, Baldy, heard you're the guy who beat Lung."

Greg chuckled nervously and raised a hand upwards, scratching his bald head. Evron had recommended he shave his scalp clean in order for his hair to grow back even. "Well, yeah...I beat him." Greg knew he didn't look impressive compared to Gallant or Aegis with their big muscles but he was still pretty tough. At least, he hoped he looked tough.

"Hmm...He must not have been as tough as they say. Heh...someone like you, you don't have any guts. I bet I could take you," Stalker replied with a sneer.

Greg smirked, his eyes flashing from blue to red and back again in an instant. "Really, you think so?"

You could almost see the cocky smirk behind Shadow Stalker's mask. "I know so."

"Let's have a little fight. A spar to see who's really tougher. I am a Brute, you know," Greg replied.

"And? I've taken down Brutes. You can ask Aegis," she replied confidently. " If you really want to spar, let's go down to the training room and I can show you exactly what I'm talking about." She walked out of the room, closely followed by an eager Greg.

Greg was actually anticipating a good fight from all the hype she was spouting. He hoped she wouldn't disappoint him.

Clockblocker and Vista glanced at each other and hurried after the two fight-crazy capes.

Shadow Stalker and Greg stood a few meters apart in a room that looked like it was designed to take damage. The ground was covered with some type of rubbery foam material and whatever the walls were made of, they looked durable. Clockblocker and Vista stood several meters away, close enough to see everything but still giving the two capes plenty of room to tear into each other. Greg had his arms at his sides, completely relaxed and waiting for the fight to begin while Shadow Stalker was the opposite. Equipped with weighted batons designed to deliver an electrical shock upon contact, she was ready and on her guard. Although it wasn't unexpected. One of them was a Brute and the other wasn't.

"Okay, Vista, is the camera ready?," Clockblocker asked. The young girl nodded, holding up a small video camera to catch the footage.

"You two ready?," he asked, this time directing the question to the two fighters.

"Yes," the two replied simultaneously.

Clockblocker cleared his throat dramatically. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am the great Clockblocker, Master of Time, and I will be your referee in today's Clash Of The Capes. Today's match is between up and coming rookie, Superior, who took down Lung on his very first night out. A legend in the making, He just might be the Brutiest Brute Brockton Bay has ever seen since Glory Girl and today he'll be up against the Wards' very own Shadow Stalker, a tough contender, the dark lady with a thirst for justice and the-,"

"Clockblocker!," screamed Shadow Stalker. "Cut the shit or I'll introduce you to the business end of my crossbow!"

"Fine, fine, fine, don't get your panties in a bunch," Shadow Stalker growled at that, "yeesh...Begin!"

Shadow Stalker moved immediately, shifting into her shadow state in an instant and jumping forward. She was fast, much faster than a regular person in her shadow state.

She reached him quickly and shifted back to normal immediately, her batons already swinging toward Greg's face. With a lazy movement, Greg slid over and avoided her weapons. With a small motion, she redirected her batons to strike him in the chest and he moved, leaning back.

"HOW!" Miss. "ARE!" Miss. "YOU!" Another Miss. "DOING!" Another Miss. "THIS!" Another FUCKING Miss! "FUUUUCK!"

She leapt back, turning into her shadow state the instant she moved, the force of her jump giving her distance. She glared at him, a growl rising in her throat as he gave her a small smile in return. The girl bent her knees and shot forward in an impressive run. She shifted into shadow once more and moved much faster, her gaseous form moving nearly as fast as a car. The instant before she reached him, she changed states and struck at him.

The attack hit nothing but the air, though, Greg _moved_ a few inches to the side, his face close enough to Shadow Stalker's for their noses to be touching.

The movement had been nothing more than a shifting of his feet but to an outside observer, it must have appeared as an impressive display of skill. As the Boss said, fighting is all about footwork.

Greg smirked. Despite the fact that this really wasn't much of a fight, he was still enjoying himself. Well, he was enjoying Shadow Stalker's enraged screams. He really wasn't doing much at all. From the moment the fight had started, adrenaline had entered his system and Zirin had boosted his senses greatly, slowing everything down even more than normal. Shadow Stalker might as well have been a crawling baby. 'This is kinda starting to get a bit boring. Might as well end it.'

As Shadow Stalker landed, she whipped around and was about to launch herself at Greg when she noticed him yawning. Under her mask, her eyes twitched in anger.

"What the fuck? Am I boring you? Huh? Answer me, shithead!," she screamed at the bored-looking baldie.

"I am getting a bit bored, yeah. I'm going to end this," was the blasé reply.

"End this? Shit's barely gotten start-," Shadow Stalker froze. What happened would be viewed as an example for anyone who ever claimed that someone like Greg could never beat Lung. Without warning, Greg's appearance and demeanor suddenly changed. His rounded face became sharp and defined, his silly, dazed smile became a harsh grin that promised pain, his muscles seemed to bulge under his costume, his face darkened with rage, and his eyes...his eyes became nothing more than pinpricks of red that promised DEATH. An aura of rage surrounded him, paralyzing Shadow Stalker and making Vista and Clockblocker take several steps back and then several more. Greg Veder was gone and Superior was in his place.

He **_blurred_**. In an instant, he was in her face and she shivered as she stared directly into his eyes.

Superior's harsh grin increased. "Did you really think you could beat me? I took down Lung with nothing but these hands! And you thought you could bring me down? Here's your punishment for insulting my skill." Greg drew his fist back and launched it forward. Shadow Stalker closed her eyes, fear in control of her reactions, as she braced herself for the strike.

When she realized she was still conscious and that something...someone was poking her, she opened her eyes. Only to see that Superior...no...Greg had his finger to her cheek. The aura of rage and death that defined Superior was gone and his eyes were back to his normal blue, the silly smile there once again.

He snickered. "Did you really think I was going to kill you? Come on, Stalker." He flicked her on the cheek and she grunted as she flew back, the small flick feeling like a light punch from Aegis, meaning a strike from a heavyweight boxer.

Clockblocker ran over, followed by Vista who was still filming.

"Wow, dude, you're strong...and fast," the self-proclaimed Master of Time exclaimed.

Greg grinned at the praise. "Yeah, but it's all about hard work. When I first got my powers, I could barely lift a couch on my own and Shadow Stalker was faster than me. I had to train for this type of strength."

"So, how did you get so strong?," Vista asked, staring at him with stars in her eyes.

"It was the hardest training anyone ever undertook. I suffered through hell everyday without rest. My best friends became pain, suffering, and misery. The first thing I felt when I woke up in the morning was the burning ache of my muscles and bones. Day after day, I pushed myself to my limits and beyond, to the point I felt like my body was breaking down and I was about to die. But when it was all over, I had succeeded. I was like this," Greg said, clenching his fist,"and I still continue my training to this very day."

"What type of training from hell was this?" asked Clockblocker, skepticism clear in his tone.

"If you must know...100 push-ups, 100 squats, 100 sit-ups, and 10km run. Every. Single. Day." Greg told him.

Vista gaped. "How long were you doing this?"

Greg took a deep breath and closed his eyes, the haunting memory of the hell he had been forced through playing through his mind.

"One...Whole...Month," he said solemnly.

At this point, Clockblocker went into shock from disbelief, mutterings of "that's so stupid" being repeated. Shadow Stalker, who had regained consciousness quickly enough to hear Greg's statements of training, started to have seizures of rage and screamed obscenities.

Vista ran up to him, hands held up to grab at his costume. "Teach me, please!"

A/N: Again, for those who don't know what an omake is, this is a non-canon extra that someone pitched me as an idea for this story. It is not actually a part of the story or plot in any way. I decided to use it and post it because I thought it was funny.


	22. PRT Threat Assessment: Superior

**PRT Threat Assessment: Superior**

 **Name:** Gregory Lucas Veder  
 **  
Codename:** Superior

 **Classification:** Brute, Mover, Changer, Master, Blaster, Tinker

 **Disposition:** Independent but seems favorable to joining Wards

 **Location:** Brockton Bay, New Hampshire

 **Personality:** Possesses a sunny disposition, though prone towards bouts of intense anger, seems to enjoy classic films and comic books, displays extreme protectiveness towards mother and hatred toward father. (Unpredictable Behavior/Prone to intense anger, impulsiveness. Does not appear inclined towards villainy. Potentially Hostile.)

 **General Information:** Blonde hair, blue eyes (changes to red when enraged), 16 year old male

 **Ratings  
**  
 **Brute 7** : Capable of surviving multiple impacts from Lung after the villain had undergone a second trigger. Ability to ignore pain below a certain threshold. Regeneration, seen to recover from damage that should be fatal in days, minutes when enraged. Exact mechanics of regeneration unknown. Superhuman strength noted. Able to engage in Close Quarters Combat with an enhanced Lung. Recovered from impalement through the chest within minutes.

 **Mover 4:** Footage recovered from street cameras clocked his running speed in excess of two-hundred miles an hour while carrying a passenger. Strength allows Superior to leap great heights and distances, greatest observed leap carried him nearly two-hundred and fifty feet into the air from the ground. Maximum distance of jumps unknown.

 **Master 2:** Causes intense fear/intimidation in others when enraged.

 **Changer 0** : Eyes change color to red when enraged

 **Blaster 4:** Footage recovered from street cameras showed him utilizing a blast able of tearing of Lung's arm twice. It is unknown why he did not use the blasts for a prolonged period. Possibly a time limit or the energy used weakens him.

 **Tinker 0:** Damaged costume retrieved by Armsmaster appears to be Tinker-made and seems constructed with nanomaterials. Device on costume appears to be a computer. Suit too damaged to retrieve additional information. Unknown if Superior is a Tinker but it is more likely that he has come in contact with a Tinker.

 **Notes (Director's Eyes Only):** Information given by Panacea has shown that he is capable of a higher Brute rating than he has shown. Lacks a Corona Pollentia and a Gemma. Believed to have been created by a Bio-Tinker specializing in physical enhancement/power granting.


	23. Interlude 2c: Susan Veder

Interlude 2c: Susan Veder

"Venti Green Tea, No water, light sugar for a...Santa Virgin," announced the female barista at the front register, bored eyes scanning for the right customer. "I said, Venti Green Tea, No water, light sug-"

"That's me."

Susan Veder retrieved her tea from the barista's hands, the tattooed girl flashing her an obviously fake smile. She didn't even look back or say "Thank you" as she usually did. She had too much on her mind at the moment.

Sitting down at an unoccupied table, Susan took a sip of the hot tea and frowned. Light sweetener, she had asked for light sweetener. What was wrong with them that every single time she came here and asked for light sweetener they ended up turning over an entire cup of sugar into her tea? This was not what she asked for. In fact, she should go back up there and demand they remake it...that or refund her money. Instead, Susan did what she always did every time this happened. She simply sighed and continued to drink. It wasn't worth it. Why should anyone care about her and her problems, her issues? She had a job, a good job with overtime and benefits. That was more than could be said for over half the people in this city. She had a big home in Captain's Hill and a son who had turned out alright despite having a horrible example of a father.

Greg hated his father, hated him more than anything else. She knew that. She wished he didn't but she couldn't change that. The thing was, Greg was very protective and had hated Rowan for how he had treated her. He didn't know about the alcoholism or the drug abuse and if she had her way, he never would. All she wanted was to have a family again, for her son to have a father. Was that too much? That was all she wanted. Since she was young, her mother had told her that a woman's place was taking care of her family. She thought she had ignored all of her mother's ideas of what a woman should be but she had found out long ago that that wasn't true.

Susan knew she had a tendency to blame herself for things she couldn't control but she couldn't help it. It was her family, damn it! First was Rowan, staying out late, drinking heavily, using drugs and cheating with so many different women. Now, it's Greg. She knew he had been hiding something and she was ready to talk about it with him. At first, with all the working out and changes to his appearance, she had thought he was gay and that he was just struggling with telling her. She wouldn't have cared. But powers? Why would he hide that from her? He knew she loved capes. They both did. It was one of the many things that they had in common. If he could be hiding that, what else could he be hiding from her? Sex? Drugs?

Susan glanced at her phone, 9: 40. She should have been at work by nine at the latest. Who really cared? They had Panacea. Why would they need one extra nurse? Besides, they'd be fine without her. She'd call in sick in an hour or two, claim she took a bit too much NyQuil for a cold and ended up oversleeping. Susan took another long sip of her over-sweetened tea, lost in thought.

Things were going to be rough for a while. Unless Greg joined the Protectorate or New Wave, they would have to move. She knew that for a fact. He was an outed cape. He might be able to shrug off bullets but what about her? Greg might be as tough as steel but she was still very squishy. All she could do was hope that no one would be crazy enough to attack the home of someone that, if what her son had said was true, sent Lung into a coma.

The gangs had to know his identity by now. He beat up Lung so the ABB definitely knew his face. And the Empire...Greg had beaten up a young Empire member at school, so he was already outed to the E88 and the Merchants, as well. God, she hated this city. Three gangs, all of them with powered members. The ABB could be understood. Their homeland had been destroyed by Leviathan and they had all flocked to the one man capable of fighting him on equal footing.

The Merchants were also understandable. I mean, a gang designed around drugs. That was only expected. But the one group she could not stand was the E88. What was the point of spreading racism, especially in times like these? An Endbringer could be at your doorstep at any moment or a cape fight could end your life in seconds. Why waste your life preaching hatred? It was pointless. She hated the looks she received too, from both the E88 and from regular people. Being blonde and blue eyed in this town was not a good idea. It had the side effect of making every non-white person around her wonder if she was part of the Empire and it made her a prime target for E88 men. It was even worse now. She had made sure to keep somewhat fit, hoping that if she stayed attractive her husband would give her more than a second look. It hadn't worked. It did have the unfortunate effect of making the E88 more up-front about what they wanted, asking her if she wanted to "preserve the bloodline." Weakest pick-up line ever.

Susan sighed. This was not what she expected her life would be like. A single mother at thirty-nine and stuck in a city full of crime and Nazis. She raised the cup to her lips one more time only to freeze as she felt someone place a rather large hand on her shoulder. Not again...they were getting even more handsy now.

Putting her cup down, she whipped around, intending to give whatever Aryan pig that felt like putting their hands on her a piece of her mind. Instead, she froze as she stared up at someone she had definitely not expected to see. "...you."

"Hello, Susan. Long time no see. Mind if I join you?," the man said, voice smooth and confident.

She nodded slowly, still in shock at the sight of the well-dressed figure in front of her.

The man sat down in the seat opposite her, coffee in hand. "You look great, by the way. Have you been working out?"

"...I have. I try to stay healthy. I'm taking care of Greg on my own, after all," Susan replied, unsure of what to say.

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee as he did so. "I'm sorry about how things ended between you and Rowan by the way. We were like brothers, him and I, and frankly, I just never expected him to do something like that. He was going downhill. Leaving you and your son like that...Just pathetic. That's why I had to fire him. How is Gregory, by the way?"

"...He's fine. What is this about? Not that I'm not happy to see you. It's just...I haven't heard from you in over two or three years...apart from the occasional call at Christmas," Susan said, wondering where the conversation was leading to.

A sad look crossed his face at the thought. "Well, I've been going through some family issues of my own and it's just been rather hard for me to face people. As Greg's godfather, I should have been there for him. It's been a long time since I've heard him call me Uncle, after all."

Susan patted his hand and simply sat in silence, waiting for him to continue.

"Honestly, though, this is about your son."

Susan froze up as he said that. 'He knows? How could he know? How long has Greg been going out for? No...this can't be about that' "What about Greg?"

"Susan, there's no need to worry. I already know. I was driving past the Docks the other night and I happened to see someone that looks a lot like Greg down there fighting Lung," he said with a small smile. "Look, I want to talk to Greg. Make him an offer. I know you've been struggling. I want to help."

Susan frowned slightly and huffed. "Look, I know you want to help but I don't need your charity."

He laughed softly in response. "Suzie, it's not charity. All I want is to offer Greg a job. I owe him at least that. I am his godfather, after all."

"I don't...I don't know...I'm not sure," Susan said, shaking her head slowly.

"Well, do you mind if I at least talk to him? Get his opinion on this?"

Susan sighed again but returned his smile. "Fine, he's at home right now. Do you want to do this right now?"

"No, why don't we have lunch first?," he said, standing up. "I know this great French restaurant downtown. They have the best salmon filet with seared shrimp on the side," he continued, reaching out his hand.

Susan smirked at him as she stood up and took the offered hand. "Is this one of your famous romantic lunch dates? Should I be worried that you'll sweep me of my feet? Because we both know I'm not in the market for a boyfriend."

She received a charming smile in response. "Of course not. Me? Sweep you off your feet? You're too smart for that. Besides, you've known me since high school. You already know all my tricks."

Susan grabbed her purse and walked out of the coffee shop, hand in hand with the charming gentleman. 


	24. Complications 2-5B

Complications 2.5B

-  
1:30 PM

Gregory Veder sat up on his bed, still wearing little more than a pair of boxers, and stared at his white-haired mentor. The person in question leaned back in Greg's desk chair, oblivious to the piercing stare of his minion.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Are you seriously telling me you really don't know what all my powers are?," Greg finally asked, exasperation evident in his tone.

Without even opening his eyes or lifting his head, Evron let out a breath. "I didn't mean it like that. What I meant to say is that you simply haven't shown any yet."

Greg spluttered, the statement being the last thing he expected to hear. "Wha...huh...bu...I...what are you talking about? You taught me how to use the ones I have. I'm strong, fast, I make weapons tougher, I can blast stuff and apparently, I can make shields. How is that not showing powers?"

Ev yawned, sitting up and actually looking Greg in the eyes. "How are those not powers? Simple. You have Royal Kheran DNA. Royals have innate Zirin control. That shit's normal...it's in your genes, bro. Your speed and strength are basically a two year old's but everything else is appropriate. You just haven't developed a unique ability in response to an urgent situation yet. It'll happen, just give it time."

Greg's jaw went slack. "All this shit is normal for them? All these powers? How tough were these Space Nazis?"

Evron began to snicker softly. "Greg, man, they're not Space Nazis. I mean, they didn't do what they did out of hate or anything. They were scared of being enslaved again...at least at first. Then it became all about the fact that their race was better than any other and that they should be in charge...huh...I guess they were Space Nazis...Well, point to you. Anyway, yeah, Kherans, even the normals, are pretty fucking tough. No such thing as a Kheran civilian. That's how they conquered. They were real badasses on the battlefield. Real fucking badasses," Evron finished with a faraway look in his eye.

"Y-yeah...real badasses." Greg stared at his hands and remembered how he felt the night before. He could understand what the Boss was talking about. Facing down Lung had been simply **GLORIOUS.** He could remember the sound of his heartbeat as the rush of Zirin boosted him, allowing him to dodge all, well...almost all of Lung's powerful strikes. Evron had told him that he needed to meditate and control his rage whenever he felt it building up or he could seriously hurt someone. Greg honestly didn't even know if that was possible. The level of euphoria he had felt was almost indescribable. It was a high that he doubted even drugs could match. If he had gotten it in his mind to fight all the Endbringers at once, Greg wouldn't have doubted that he would have tried. Looking back on it with a clear head, it actually terrified him. That level of unbelievable confidence combined with pure exhilaration and bliss was unbelievable but he didn't have it in him to stop. His muscles had been torn, his body had been burnt, his bones had been broken and he had been closer to death than he had ever been in his entire life, but it wasn't enough for him. He had needed **MORE**.

Greg shivered, the thought frightening him, and he turned back to Evron, hoping to change the subject. "...Uh...so, Ev...uh...where...uh...where you yesterday?"

"On the moon."

It was a testament to how much Greg believed in Evron that he did not immediately claim that he was lying. As it was, he did seem to be having a bit of trouble processing the validity of that statement.

"..."

"..."

"...the moon?"

"Yeah."

"...the moon in space?"

"Yes."

"...the real moon?"

Evron turned to give his somewhat skeptical minion a blank look. "No, Gregory, the one made of cheese."

Greg sighed, still struggling somewhat to believe Evron. "How did you get into space?" Then another more important thought came to mind. "How did you get past the Simurgh? Did you fight her again?!"

"Nah...I just teleported," Evron replied, leaning back again.

"You can teleport?!," Greg exclaimed, before taking a few breaths to calm himself down. "Okay...okay...you can teleport. No big deal. That's not that special. Just...what were you doing on the moon?"

Despite the fact that Evron wasn't directly facing him, Greg could still see a small smile play at his lips before quickly turning with an angry scowl. "Just...testing some of my more...esoteric powers...you know, just to see if they work. Different universes...some times, rarely, different fucking rules. Shit like than can fuck you up. You wouldn't know," Evron finished, the scowl fading somewhat.

Greg shrugged. "Okaaaaaaaayyyyy...that does make some sense...I guess. What are your powers anyway?"

Evron nodded, a small smile replacing the scowl, and he responded quickly, as if hearing a joke that he already knew the punch line to. "Yes."

"What?"

Shaking his head, Evron let out a small chuckle, and flashed Greg a sharp-toothed grin. "Nothing, nothing. It's a joke that my friend Craig makes all the time. Uh...well...at this point, I don't really think about it. There's so many that I'm not really sure, honestly," Evron said, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

Greg stood up, curiosity written clearly on his face. "Okay...explain to me what powers you do know that you have. Just give me the basics."

Evron raised an eyebrow, his grin fading into a small smile. "Huh...well, I started off with super speed and a healing factor. I was stronger than normal too but barely above a boxer in terms of strength. I got those at five years old and up until I was fourteen, that didn't change."

"Why? What's so special about you being fourteen?," Greg asked, still as curious as ever.

"Fourteen was when my best bud Anton wanted to go out and be a hero and I decided to join him. Anyway, I was trying to stop these criminals and one of them had lightning powers. The guy, we later found out we were cousins, was trying to kill me and he literally fried me alive but I managed to knock him out but his friends still escaped with him. Anyway, found out I could use lightning when I ended up shocking myself when I took a shower. Turned out to be permanent," Evron said, raising his right hand up.

Greg gaped as electricity began to coil around Evron's arm, forming a small ball right above his thumb. 'Holy fucking shit!' "Cool...maybe I could get that too. Would it work if you tried to fry me? We'd be like lightning twins!"

Evron narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth as if to say something but shook his head instead, changing his mind. "First of all, lightning twins...Two words. Hell. No," Evron shook his head again as if trying to remove the idea from his brain. "In fact, never say that again if you don't want to stay a minion forever. That's an order. Second of all, yeah...probably wouldn't work. Trying it would leave you with some major brain damage. You can't even regenerate yet. Lightning like that would fuck you up for good...Seriously, don't try that," Evron said firmly, sending Greg a sharp glare.

"Anyway, a few months later, I found out I could shoot blasts from my hands. Then, shit went down and Paragon, The # 1 Hero on Earth, lost his shit and tried to destroy New York. Long story short, he ended up turning into a crystalline monster. I blew him up by overloading him and he exploded in the upper atmosphere and a lot of his crystals landed in me and a few landed in Anton who was trying to fly up there to catch me. I couldn't fly at the time. Anyway, we got a big boost from that. I got a LOT stronger and faster and my blasts got a major boost and I figured out how to use eye beams. And-"

"Wait...so...you just killed him...just like that. You said he was your biggest hero. Why?," Greg asked, an uneasy expression on his face.

"Greg, don't give me that. Seriously, you weren't there. It was hell, okay. The city was leveled, people were dying...Vermont was just...gone. A good chunk of Massachusetts too. Look, just imagine if...that guy...Scion? Imagine if Scion lost his shit and tried to kill everyone."

Color bleached from Greg's face as he thought of the sheer mayhem that the world's most powerful hero would cause. "That'd be...horrible."

"Yeah...you see my point...He had to go. Okay, so where was I...yeah...after that, I started having dreams about falling and I ended up figuring out how to fly after I got pushed out a plane at 35,000 feet. Then after that was telekinesis, just some Brute force stuff at f It was a learned skill. Later on, I got regeneration, force fields, Zirin control, limited shapeshifting, teleportation, energy absorption, psychokinesis, power copying, reality jumping, time travel. That's basically the important parts."

Greg stared for a few seconds, his left eye twitching. "That's...that's just...Bullshit! How are you...just...what? I've heard of grab-bag capes...but come on! That's just so bullshittingly unfair! How can anyone have all those powers?"

"Bullshittingly?," Evron replied, shrugging. "You could say that. Although every top tier hero is pretty up there. Even the older teams like Trinity, Super Sentai, The League of Many, Young Paragons. I mean, Trinity had Paragon, Liberty, and Renegade all on the same team. Well, Paragon and Renegade are kinda...dead...so...yeah."

"So the Trinity? Three top heroes...the best, right? You're at their level?"

Evron narrowed his eyes. "No...I'm not at their level. Umm...maybe when I was sixteen sure...but that's a long time ago. I run my own team, bro. Freedom Guard and their Trinity is shit compared to Titanwatch and my Alphas."

"So this...Trinity? They were just like the Triumvirate, right?"

"Eh...the Trinity were kinda basically America's super nukes. American military-made...well, not Renegade. American born...strongest heroes in the world. Officially, they were part of the UN sponsored team called Freedom Guard...but people knew where they stood. Let me show you what I'm talking about. Sia, bring up File: Paragon 1...Clearance Level...eh...C."

A hologram appeared from the floor, emanating from the small disk Evron had dropped a short while ago. This time, a tall, heavily muscled blonde man appeared. His physique was Apollonian and his unmasked face was rather handsome as well. The costume he wore was a bright gold, with a white star as his insignia and white trim. A warm smile was on his face and he stood in a heroic pose, hands on hips and looking upwards. Greg gasped. The guy looked like the dictionary definition of the word 'Hero.'

The device on the floor began to speak.  
"Paragon. Hero.  
Threat Class: S  
Affiliation: Freedom Guard.  
Designation: Leader.  
Archetype: Paragon.  
Married to Hero: Liberty.  
Father to Hero: Paradigm, Hero: Sunburst, Hero: Marvel, Villain: Ubermensch, Villain: Schadenfreude.

Formerly regarded as the most powerful hero in the world, Paragon engaged in an experimental procedure to increase his abilities. This procedure led to Paragon going berserk and destroying nearly four states and portions of South America in his rage. Death toll was estimated to be over 75 million. He was terminated by Hero: Titan. Abilities: Paragon possessed superhuman lifting strength ranging from 250 thousand to 2 million tons, superhuman speed ranging from 25,000 mph to 250,000 mph. Durable enough to survive the heat of the sun's core for extended periods of time. Enhanced Intelligence. Superhuman Senses. Projected Energy Absorption. Solar Energy Projection."

Greg continued staring as the image of Paragon as the device continued to speak. 'This guy...this guy was strong.' Greg turned to Evron, an incredulous expression on his face, and pointed at the image of Paragon. "This guy's unbelievable! You took him down?"

"Yeah, but I can't take all the credit. It was a team effort." With a slight gesture of his hand, the device flew into his open palm, the hologram disappearing.

Greg nodded, satisfied with that answer. "So...what now?"

Evron shrugged, making a sound that could be interpreted as "I dunno know" but was most likely "I don't care."

"You mind if I ask you something, Ev?"

"...why not? Go ahead."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Greg sat there, a single bead of sweat gathering on his forehead, trying to think of a way to approach Evron with a request that he had been contemplating since last night. 'I need to ask him. Should I ask him now or should I wait? It's not like he's doing anything right now anyway. Do it. Do it! Do it, you giant pussy! Just ask. The worst he could do is say no. Well...no. The worst he could do is teleport me up to the moon and let me die but...Ev wouldn't do that. Right?'

The two sat in silence for a bit longer, until Greg finally decided to speak his mind.. "...Yeah...so, I was thinking..."

Evron slowly turned to face the blonde boy. "Oh, really...please tell me. What were you thinking about?"

"Well...you can give powers...and you already gave me powers..."

"Yes..."

'Just say it! Boss, I know that you gave me powers and I appreciate the fact that you did. I like them a lot and it's because of you that I can be a hero now and that means a lot to me. However, I think that I may have underestimated exactly how dangerous the villains are in this city. Since I fought Lung last night and he was every bit as terrifying as he has been described online and I also attacked an E88 member at school, I've started to realize that the gangs will most likely attempt retaliation for my actions and I'm worried for the safety of my mother. I understand if I am going too far by asking this and that you've already done a lot for me, but I would like to ask you one favor. Would you please grant my mom superpowers for her own protection?' Greg nodded as he gathered his thoughts and prepared to eloquently make his case as to why his mom needed powers.

He opened his mouth.

"GIVE MY MOM POWERS OR SHE'LL DIE!"

"..."

Evron simply stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

'...smooth, Greg...real smooth. He's never going to say yes to that.' "What...uh...I...uh...meant to say was...uh...I appreciate villains...I mean...the powers you did give me...I like Lung...I mean, I like them...uh,"Greg spluttered, scrambling to salvage the situation.

"...Fine."

Greg's eyes widened at Evron's simple acceptance."What? Really?"

Evron put both hands behind his head and leaned even further back as he floated out of Greg's desk chair. "I'm going to have to give her a different type of powers than you, though because Evolved tend not to react well when you turn them past puberty. I'm pretty sure your mom is past that."

"Why does puberty matter?"

"Hormones and shit. You're brain hasn't really developed like an adult's so I can't Evolve her like I did you. Honestly, making more Evolved would be a stupid idea anyway," he continued, lazily floating circles around Greg's bed. "Evolved are all about dominance. Making more would just lead to them trying to fight you all the time anyway. I'll have to use something different, " As he finished speaking, he held his right hand in front of him and stared at it as a baseball-sized ball of blue light appeared in the center of his palm.

Greg craned his neck, trying to see what Evron was doing. "What's that?"

"Shh..." The ball split into five different smaller orbs and Evron closed his palm quickly. When he opened it, there were five small, blue, jagged crystals sitting there. Picking one up with his left hand, he tossed it down to Greg.

After scrambling to catch it for a few tense moments, Greg held it up victoriously. Despite it's small package, Greg could feel an undeniable sense of power inside it. "What is it?"

"...A less reliable method for granting powers, but still useful. Give it to your mom...or something. As long as it's on her person or around her, it'll grant her powers when she feels like she's in mortal danger," Evron answered, his eyes closed once again.

Greg stared at the crystal in his hand for a few seconds as he processed Evron's words. "How am I supposed to give this to her? It's a crystal. I'm not a five year old. I can't just be like 'Here, mommy, I found this shiny rock on the ground'," Greg protested.

Evron scoffed as he floated around Greg's room, eyes still closed. "Not my problem...Figure it out."

Despite the slight frown on his face, Greg was smiling on the inside. Even though Evron's eccentric attitudes were sometimes funny and at worst, infuriating, the guy didn't mind helping him out most of the time. 'What's he getting out of this, though? I mean, he can give out powers like it's candy. He could do whatever he wants. Why is he messing around with me?' Greg stood up, walking past the still floating form of his young mentor, and made his way to his closet. 'He could be super famous but doesn't feel like outing himself until he's 'ready'. What does that even mean? He could have spent an entire month trying to get back to his universe but he's been spending it with me...training me. It doesn't really make sense...huh.'

He continued to think as he dressed himself, occasionally glancing back at Evron. 'Maybe he's just weird and doesn't care about all that stuff. I mean, he's already the top dog on his world. Although, maybe he's lying about that...Nah, I trust him. Besides, why wo-'

"Greg..."

Still in the middle of putting on a polo, Greg turned around, hurriedly shoving his face through the hole. "Huh?"

Evron was still floating but instead of lying back, he sat up with his legs folded. "...Your mom's home."

"What? Mom works form eight to eleven most days. She can't be home yet," Greg replied adamantly.

"Check for yourself then," was the as-expected nonchalant reply.

Greg opened the door to his room and poked his head out to see...no one. 'What's he talking about? No one's here.' Greg turned around to tell Evron that he was wrong only to see no one in his room either. Greg glanced around his room and waved his hands all over, trying to touch something that may be invisible to his senses."...Is invisibility one of your powers too? Is that a thing that I should know about? Cause I'm not cool with you walking around my house invisible."

When no one answered, Greg sighed. "Fuckin' weirdo...whatever...I'm going downstairs to make something to eat. If you're hungry, I can only make food for people I can see!"

No answer.

Greg huffed and made his way down the stairs, mumbling to himself as he did so.

"Ooooohhh, I'm Evron, a big bad hero with all the powers...frickin frick...I can teleport...ooh now I can go invisible too. I hope you can hear me, you creep!"

He continued mumbling as he walked downstairs, only to pause as he heard noises from outside.

"Oh my god, that was delicious...I can't believe it."

'A woman's voice...laughing, no...giggling...Mom? She's home? Ev was right?'

"What did I tell you, Susan? I know cuisine."

'A deep voice...a man...flirting with Mom. Flirting with Mom?'

"No, no...that's not all you knooooow. You also know how to show a girl a good time. You're...soooo nice...not like Rowan. He was never really nice to me."

"Don't worry about that. Now...let's get you to bed."

Fire burned in Greg's veins as soon as he heard the man speak those words. ' **THE FUCK DOES HE THINK HE'S DOING?!** ' Greg jumped down the rest of the stairs and pulled open the door quickly, the wood creaking from his strength and his fingers leaving impressions in the doorknob.

His mother stood there, eyes bloodshot and eyelids droopy and a few dark stains on her floral scrubs. Her face was flushed and a dazed smile was plastered on her face. Greg's nose twitched as he took in a strong smell of alcohol. 'She's wasted?'

That dazed smile became an even more dazed grin as soon as she caught sight of her son.

"Greggie, honey, looook who's heeeere," she slurred, gesturing wildly.

A man stood next to her with an arm around her waist, holding her body tightly to his while she had her arm draped over the shoulders of his obviously expensive suit. Somewhat tall, blonde, grey eyes, square jaw...that same smug smile. It wasn't his dad. It definitely wasn't Rowan Veder...but it was a closer resemblance than he was at all comfortable with.

He hated this man, whoever he was. He hated him. He hated his face. He hated his clothes. He hated his very existence. In fact, all he wanted to do was rip him in half for even daring to touch **his** mother. 'Control it. Push it down...Listen to Ev. Don't let it control you...You're in **control.** '

Greg faced the man, an extremely forced smile on his face as he stared at the object of his fury. "...Hello," he finally forced out through his gritted teeth. The anger in his chest died down from a raging fire to a simmering burn as he finally pushed the word out.

"Gregory, it's good to see you again. How's my godson been?," spoke the man with a wide, sincere smile.

And just like that, the fire went out entirely as his anger gave way to shock.

'GODSON?!'

Greg froze as he stared at the man closely, picking out minute details that he didn't notice due to his rage.

The smile...less smug, more confident. Hair...a dirty blonde instead of honey. Face...jaw line rectangular and sharp rather than square and strong.

It all painted an oddly familiar picture and after a few seconds of intense staring, Greg's eyes widened and he took a few steps back out of surprise.

"...Uncle?...Uncle Max?!"

_

_

I'm not happy with this chapter. I just feel like it was missing something...or various somethings. I really don't know.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. My posting rate might be a bit slower for a few months. I'm starting a new job as a Sales Rep so...yeah.  
I'll still keep writing but chapters might be shorter or you might get one really huge chapter after a week or two.


	25. Complications 2-6

**Complication 2.6**

"Uncle Max?...What...uh...what are you doing here?,"Greg asked in confusion before turning his attention to what was actually important. "...and why is my mother wasted at two in the afternoon?"

His mom let go of his godfather and stumbled into the house, swaying as she did so. With both hands, she grabbed onto his face and began squeezing it and and rubbing as if it was a stress ball. "Oh, I luh you so mush, Greggie. Oooo care abuh me...ooo care abuh me...I luh you, Greggie," she mumbled at him, slurring almost every word. "You're my presshious li'l baby. I luh you...I luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhh yyyyooooooooouuuuuuuuu."

Greg courageously managed to suppress a groan as his mother blew her breath directly into his nose with every slurred word. Apparently, alcohol was not the only thing on her breath. "Mom, did you...throw up?"

Her dazed smile became a tad embarrased. "A li'l bid. I had some wine."

Greg pulled her hands from his face and helped his mom stand up a bit straighter. "Yeah, I can see that. How much did you drink?"

"A bolly...abolly and uhalf. Mayyyybeeee two."

Greg sighed and glanced at his godfather still standing outside. "Two bottles...really?"

Max simply smiled and nodded.

Shaking his head, Greg helped his mother stand straight up again. "Listen, Mom, let's...uh...get you...in bed...okay. Let me help you. "

"H-h-h-heeeeey, youuung maaaan! Whaddya thing yeeeeeeeer doin'?" she slurred, jabbing a finger into Greg's chest.

Greg took a step back. "...uh...helping you? You're pretty drunk, Mom," answered Greg, unsure of how to deal with Drunk Susan.

"Gerroff me!" she said. "I'm ash sober ash 'm gonna git. And nuffing I - wait wait wait," she paused, gulping audibly, " nuffing _you_ can do 'boutit. A'am your motha' and I take care of youuu. Not youu taking care of meeeee. Jew got that, mishta?"

Greg nodded slowly and his mother smiled. "Datt's goood."

And with that, she pulled away from Greg, ambling her way up the stairs, hiccuping and burping as she moved.

Greg and Max watched her walk up the stairs, barely swaying at all with her hand on the banister. She walked into the second floor bathroom and a few seconds later, the sound of retching was heard.

Greg turned to his godfather, unsure of what to say. Maximillian Anders was a close friend of his father. They had known each other since high school and the two had remained somewhat close ever since. Since Greg had been young, the man had been seen in the household at least once or twice every month up until a few years ago. Greg really had nothing bad to say about his Uncle Max but there was nothing necessarily good either. Despite the fact that he was less boisterous and much more kind than Rowan had ever been, Max Anders had always reminded him too much of his father for Greg to ever like him much. It was an odd balancing act between distaste and respect.

Greg nodded awkwardly and Max simply stood there, a small smile on his face.

"Can I come in, Greg?"

"Yea-yeah...come on in, Uncle Max." Greg moved to the side as Max walked in, closing the door behind him.

Greg watched as his godfather walked into the living room and sat down on the white leather couch his mom had bought. "I like what you did with your hair. A Mohawk. I always wanted one when I was your age but my dad ruled with an iron fist. Finally beginning to rebel?", Max asked with a smirk.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Not really, I just made some stupid choices that ended up leading to this."

"I understand. How are you, Greg?"

Scowling slightly, Greg sat down in the single chair next to him. "I'm fine...No offense, Uncle Max, but why are you here? I haven't seen you since... **HE**...left and that was...what? More than two years ago?"

Max nodded and leaned back on the sofa, crossing his legs. "It has been a while, I know. I'm sorry about that. I've been having my own family troubles."

Greg sighed. "...I'm sorry about that...but that still doesn't explain why you're here now...and with my mom," he said, glancing up at the sound of his mother retching again. "That's another good question. Why were you with my mom when-" Greg paused as Susan's retching and dry heaving increased in volume, interspersed with random moans. "...when she's supposed to be at work?"

"Greggie?!," called his mother's voice.

"Yes, Mom? You need any help?"

"Nooo, A'am vine. Buuuut...wheeeere's the draaaain cleaner? Uh...sumfing's got the toilet all stug up."

Greg rolled his eyes at the thought of how much vomit it would take to clog a toilet that quickly. "It's behind the toilet, Mom."

"Dank oooo, Greggie."

Greg sighed and glanced back at his godfather. "And why in the hell is she drunk like that? You two were drinking? What? Are you dating now?," Greg questioned, nearly growling the last question.

Max shook his head softly. "Greg, look, it's not anything like what you're imagining. I was in the middle of getting some coffee this morning when I saw your mother sitting by herself looking a bit down. I hadn't seen her in a long time and I just wanted to talk to her, see how she's been...how you've been. I took her to a nice restaurant for lunch. We ate a little bit. I had a glass of wine. She...had a bottle or two. She was in no condition to drive so I drove her home. Your mother and I are not dating or anything like that."

Greg stared at him, not convinced that something wasn't up. "And you just happened to randomly meet up with her? In a coffee shop? Since when does a CEO get his own coffee? I don't buy it."

Max chuckled softly in response. "Maybe I like doing things for myself. Did you ever think of that, Greg?"

Greg raised one hand to his face and rubbed his chin as he shot Max a piercing stare. "I still don't buy it. Look, Uncle Max, I'm just a little bit suspicious, okay. No offense but you're my dad's friend and I don't really trust my dad...or anything to do with him, really. And all of a sudden, my dad's friend popping up after two years to wine and dine my mother...I mean, come on, that doesn't seem kinda off to you? I just want to know...why are you here? Why now?"

"I get where you're coming from, Greg and...I'd be lying if I said I didn't understand. I know it seems a little bit suspicious but there's no need to be angry."

Greg balled his hands into fists and placed them on his lap. This conversation was annoying him more and more the longer it went on. There was just something about his godfather that reminded him of his father and it irritated him to no end. Right now, it was the way that he was trying to avoid his questions. "I don't care if there's no need to be angry. It doesn't matter. I'm already angry 'cause you're not answering my questions. Why are you here, Uncle Max? Why now? And what were you doing with my mom? Just tell me! Stop avoiding it!"

Max sighed and he leaned forward on the sofa, the leather squeaking loundly. "...You're absolutely right, Greg. There is a reason. You're very smart. Must have gotten that from your mother. To be honest, I hadn't thought about you and your mother much ever since your parents got divorced. Rowan...your father was my connection to you and your mother. I may have been your godfather, but I didn't think much of that. It's just a thing people say."

"Is there a point to this?...Cause I have to go take care of my mom," Greg interrupted, glancing at the stairs.

"Gregory, please...When your father left, I was going through my own divorce. I didn't feel like I could take any more stress. Though, for the last few months, I have been thinking about you two. I was talking to your mom today just to see how the two of you've been. I've talked to her over the phone a few times this year. Asked if I could help. She says she doesn't need charity. Then, last night...well...I realized how I could help you. I know you were there last night...at the Docks...with Lung."

Greg's eyes narrowed into slits and he tensed in his seat, clenching his fists tightly. 'He doesn't know, he doesn't know...relax...' "Me?...I don't know what you're talking about. Why would I be at the Docks? That'd be crazy. Lung destroyed most of it last night."

Max gave him a knowing smile and Greg's eye twitched in annoyance. "Greg, I know-"

Greg literally growled as Max said that. "What? What do you know?! Tell me! I didn't see you there! Everything around us was destroyed."

Holding his hands up, Max leaned backwards as if intimidated by Greg's words. The patronizing action only served to annoy Greg. "Please, let me finish...I saw a photo of you fighting Lung. I was at one of my warehouse overseeing the delivery of some new stock when I heard about Lung in the area. I was planning to evacuate when one of my workers showed me a photo they took. It was you...in costume, leaning on a wall with Lung behind you on the ground. It was rather blurry but I know your face."

Max reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a phone. A lot of people had smartphones now. They were popular but expensive and if they could afford it, they bought one. Compared to Earth Aleph, Earth Bet's technology, besides the Tinker-made stuff, was lackluster. Aleph had bigger and better phones, tablets and televisions. Max's phone was one of the newer ones, large and well designed, copied from Aleph schematics. Some people had managed to get schematics from Earth Aleph and made small changes to them, producing better tech than most of their competitors. It was much more expensive, but if you were like Max and had the money to spare, then it didn't matter much.

Greg grimaced at the picture. It was somewhat fuzzy but he could make out his own face. It was just after Lung had gored him and he was bent over, clutching his chest as he bled. "So that's why you're here. Because I have powers, huh. That's it? Me being a cape makes us important to you again, right?"

"Again, it's not like that. I know my friendship with your father doesn't leave you with the best impression of me but just let me explain myself. I've been wondering about how I could help you and your mother but I realized I know what I can do for you now...," he paused as his phone rang, interrupting him.

Max glanced at the screen and canceled the call before placing it face down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Sorry about that. This is about you. No interruptions. As I was saying, I know what I can do for you now...I want to offer you a job, Greg."

Greg blinked suddenly, surprised by the statement. "A job? Doing what?"

Max's smile returned full force and he leaned forward even further. "I want you to be the official sponsored Hero for MedHall Pharmaceuticals."

Greg's mouth opened slightly. "...I-I-I-I can't...what? Me? Why me?"

"Greg, you're a brand new cape. You're young, handsome and you defeated Lung. Someone like you, with that level of power, is not going to be seen that often. I want to help you grow."

"I don't know...I'm thinking of joining the Wards already...or, or New Wave."

Max stood up, picking up his phone. "Greg, if you join either of them, you'll just be one of many. I can make you stand out. You defeated Lung. Do you know what that means? You could become what this city needs..." Max's smile became a tad darker as he continued. "...someone who can remove the scum from Brockton Bay and make it safe again. The Protectorate would make you a child soldier and New Wave's a family team. I'd let you live your life. With me, your Uncle Max, I'll get you whatever you want. Money, cars, tech, your own base. Say it and it's yours."

'He's got a point, right? It makes sense. The Wards wouldn't even give me that stuff. New Wave...definitely not.' Despite his thoughts, Greg said nothing, simply staring at his godfather as he smiled at him. "...Why? Why do you want to help me?"

"Well, I do have a motive. I'm a businessman. Having a hero like you as the face of my company would only improve business. But the real reason is simple. Your dad called me and asked me to take you under my wing. I thought about what he had to say and I realized that he was right. You're my godson...my family...and I finally have a way to show that I appreciate you. Just let me help you, Greg."

Greg sat there looking up at his godfather blankly, trying his best not to let the fact that his offer was because of his dad make him furious. He said nothing, still thinking about his options and what he really wanted to do. His thoughts were interrupted as his uncle laid a hand on his shoulder. "Just think about it, Greg. I have to go. My driver was the one calling me earlier. He's here. Anyway, give me a call when you make up your mind. Tell your mother that I hope she feels better."

Max walked to the door, only to pause as he glanced at the doorknob with Greg's fingerprints impressed into the metal. He turned his head to give Greg one more glance. "By the way, do you happen to have picked out a name yet?"

"Yeah...I'm Superior."

The small smile on Max's face became a full blown grin as he heard Greg's reply. Despite the smile on his face, his eyes seemed to have a dark gleam to them. "Superior...huh. I think I can work with that."

With that said, he walked out, closing the door behind him gently.

Greg sat by himself in the living room with only his troubled thoughts and the quiet sounds of his mother's dry heaving to keep him company.

-  
3:30 PM

Greg gently opened the doors to his mother's bedroom, careful not to let the hinges make much noise. Gentle mumbling came from the figure in his arms and Greg rolled his eyes with a slight frown on his face. His mom was sweaty, unconscious and still in her work clothes but he didn't mind taking care of her. In fact, he liked it. It made him feel like he was worth something. Helping his mom, taking care of her, making her meals in bed when she was sick...he felt good to do stuff like that.

After his mother had exhausted herself heaving and retching down the toilet, she had passed out on the floor of the bathroom. He knew his mom. His mom did not drink...anymore, at least. The last time she behaved like this was when his father had left and she took to alcohol to comfort her, drinking like a fish almost everyday after work. She had only stopped when he had asked her why she was drinking like dad. The shock of him saying that had been enough to send her to tears. She had gone cold turkey soon after, not touching alcohol for more than a year and a half since.

Greg sighed as he walked towards her queen bed. This made no sense at all. She only drank when she felt devastated...or hopeless.

Why though? Yes, they were in a bit of a rough situation but it was far from hopeless. Greg knew he had made enemies with two of the major gangs in the city. That much was true...but, then again, one of those gangs was crippled. Cut off the head and whatever. Lung was the head of the ABB. Without him, the ABB didn't have the firepower to stand up to the Merchants or the E88 with only Oni Lee. Not to mention, the E88 wouldn't want to make an enemy of someone that had beaten Lung, right? So that was one problem gone. What else could it be?

Greg placed her into bed slowly, making sure not to disturb her rest. He grimaced at the wine and food stains on his mother's scrubs as he covered her up. He knew that it wasn't the best idea to put her to bed in stained, sweaty clothes. However, even though he and his mother were close, he did not feel okay with undressing her. 'No way, I've read Oedipus Rex. That way lies bad things.' Besides, he hated his dad but he didn't want to kill him.

Walking out slowly, Greg carefully closed the double doors behind him with a slight ' _klik.'_

" _Greeeeeggieeee,"_ came a soft moan from inside the room.

"Oh, come on," mouthed Greg.

With a sigh, he opened the doors to the master bedroom. "Yes, Mom?"

Susan Veder lay in her bed, red-rimmed eyes half open, hair tousled and face sweaty. "Wheeeree's Max?"

"He left an hour ago, Mom."

"Dish ooo talk?", she mumbled.

Greg walked in and sat at the foot of her bed. "Yeah, we did. He offered me a job...as MedHall's spokeshero."

"Ohhh, I rememma dat. He said sumfing like dat. Anyfing spessha, perks or sumfing?"

Greg smiled slightly. "Yeah, he said he can give me cars, money, tech...even my own base. A cool superhero HQ. That sounds good, right?"

"Mmmmhmmmm...do ooo wanna...work wif Max?", she asked with a yawn.

Greg shrugged. "I dunno, Mom. He seems...okay but he kinda reminds me of Dad and he really only did it because Dad called him and told him to watch over me and...that's enough for me to not take the job."

Susan patted Greg on the arm softly. "Nooo, baby. Max'sh real nice. He's real nice. He's a gooood guy. Ooooo can trust hiiiim."

With a sigh, Greg turned away. "I don't know, Mom. Maybe you're right...but what if you're not? It's not like I don't wanna work for him. It's just the way he acts, you know. It's like Dad...but less in your face, more subtle. I just don't want to make a stupid decision..." Greg sighed again and put his head in his palms. "I dunno...what do you think I should do?...Mom?"

Before he even lifted his head, Greg could hear the gentle snoring that told him his mother was asleep. He stood up from the foot of her bed and walked to her side, lifting up the covers to make sure she was properly under them. That done, he walked out of her room as gently as possible. On instinct, he reached for her door only to pause and shake his head. 'No...I already learned that lesson once.'

Greg walked into his room and dropped himself down on his bed, face up staring at a poster of Eidolon on his ceiling. 'I still haven't made a decision...but why do I have to? It hasn't even been one goddamn day since I took down Lung. But...I still have to think about it. New Wave's definitely out. Max was right. They're a family group. I'd be the odd guy out. I'd upset their whole dynamic or whatever. That just leaves me with the Wards or...Uncle Max. If I join the Wards, I have a team...maybe friends, equipment and the entire government behind me. Not to mention, Miss Militia seems pretty cool. She even gave me her personal number. But joining the Wards means I also have to deal with a lot of questions and judgement and that's not even talking about...Armsmaster.'

Greg sighed and turned over, thoughts still racing. 'If I join up with MedHall, I get money, toys, a base, cars...but there's Uncle Max. Dad could show up too. This could just be his way of getting me to like my dad and I really don't want to deal with shit like that right now. What do I do?'

Glancing around his room slowly, Greg decided to try something. "Evron, if you're here...could you please help me out? Tell me what to do...PLEASE!"

"..."

"..."

 _"beep-beep-beep-beep"_

"The hell...?" Greg sat up in his bed as something began to beep in a clear, loud tone. Getting up from his bed, Greg began to search around his room as the beeping got louder and louder. 'What is that?' He opened his closet and searched up and down...'Not Here!' Dropping to his stomach, he checked under the bed. 'No!'

 _"BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!"_

"Where is it?!" Greg paused and forced himself to calm down. 'Okay, focus. You have super hearing. Just use it.' Closing his eyes, Greg tried to concentrate on only his auditory senses. The beeping only got louder and louder as he focused...where was it? Where was it? Damn it, where was it? THERE! Greg rushed to his dresser and reached under it, the beeping still getting louder. Feeling the sensation of a small metallic object, he pulled it out.

'What?' In his hand was the tiny silver disk that Evron used to project his holograms all the time. The beeping suddenly stopped and a six inch hologram of Evron appeared. The hologram looked directly at Greg, who was already confused and rather irritated by having to look for this thing.

"I teach you how to use your powers, not to live your life. The answer is no. Figure it out yourself." And with that, the hologram disappeared.

Greg stared at the small disk in his palm, unsure of what to think. "Well, thank you very much. It's not like I have to make a super important decision that could affect the rest of my life. No...I don't need help at all...How often are you listening in anyway?"

He finally settled on annoyance.

Greg sighed and sat on the floor, back against the wall. "What am I supposed to do? I need a sign..." Greg glanced up to see a decal of Legend that he placed above his bed. Above the blue-suited laser hero, the words "Do the Right Thing" were emblazoned on his wall. "...or a poster. Huh...why did I ever put that on my wall in the first place?" Pulling himself up, Greg walked to the bedside and picked up his slow, blocky smartphone. It was crap, like most affordable smartphones were but it was useful.

He dialed the number on his phone and waited as it rang. After only a few rings, someone picked up.

"Hello, this is..." Greg paused as he took one last moment to consider his actions. This was the point of no return. If he went through with this, his life would never be the same. It didn't matter anyway. His mother had his back no matter what he chose, he knew that for sure but...did he really want to go through with this?

Yes, yes he did. He had already made his decision...and he was fine with it.

"This is Superior. I've decided."


	26. Interlude 2d: PHO-Taylor

PHO/Taylor Interlude

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 **Topic: Lung Taken Down?  
In: Boards ► News ► Events ► America ► Brockton Bay**

 **RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Posted on April 12, 2011:

Okay, I'm new to Brockton Bay. I've been here just over a year so I don't know all the intricacies of this crazy city. I mean, I know the basics.

There's capes. Other than New Wave, the Wards and the Protectorate, most of the capes in Brockton are villains.

Everybody knows Lung is the strongest and baddest villain in Brockton Bay. Shit, he's probably the strongest villain on the East Coast.

He beat the entire Protectorate! He beat New Wave!  
He kicks all the ass!

LUNG DOESN'T LOSE!...except last night, he kinda did.

Last night after most of the fighting between the gangs was over, Lung was rampagng by the Docks. An hour later, there was a report that Armsmaster brought in Lung...BY HIMSELF.

Looks like Armsmaster's the baddest cape in Brockton now.

 **(Showing Page 6 of 57)**

 **► peoplewatcher**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
This is really awesome for Armsmaster. He's getting the credit he deserves.

 **► hiddenthoughts**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
I know. It's so freakin cool. I bet Dragon couldn't even have soloed Lung.

 **► bangerwithcash**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
I call BULLSHIT! Lung would never go down like a bitch. Armsmaster's a Tinker. Lung is LUNG.

 **► Bank_Breaker**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
bangerwithcash: Really? Armsmaster's like the best Tinker in America. If anyone could take out Lung, he could.

 **► legostomper**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
bangerwithcash: Armsmaster is badass. Lung's a Brute but that's it. In a year from now, he'll still have the same powers. Armsmaster's a Tinker. He can make anything, man, ANYTHING.

 **► King Of Ancients**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
bangerwithcash: This is Halbeard we're talking about. He's the #2 Tinker on the planet. He could solo Lung if he planned ahead.

 **► Kpopqueen**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
bangerwithcash: Lung takes time to get stronger, Armsmaster probably took him down before he could get too strong.

 **► Nerd With A Cause** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
You guys are all so wrong! I agree that Tinkers are badass but maybe try to hop off of Armsmaster's dick. Have you never heard of Toybox? Armsmaster's barely in the top 10. Go HERE to educate yourself, plebes.

User recieved an infraction for this post.

 **► Bank_Breaker**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Nerd With A Cause: Wow, you just proved how stupid you are. All of those capes are super specialized (Except for Dragon). They couldn't do shit to Armsmaster if he prepared. Armsmaster is all about making stuff smaller and better. He can make their shit and kick their ass with it.

 **► legostomper**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Nerd With A Cause: You're so ridiculous. People used to think of Armsmaster as the next Hero. Do you know what that means? Armsmaster could be Triumvirate level one day.

 **► Nerd With A Cause** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
I don't have to say anything else. I know I'm right. You're all just too stupid to understand that.

User has recieved an infraction for this post.

 **► Tin_Mother** (Moderator)  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Nerd With A Cause: Try not to insult other members. If you have to make a point, insults are not conducive to persuasiveness.

 **► bangerwithcash**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Okay, all of you think that you're so fucking smart. Did any of you actually see what the Docks look like? Take a look right fucking HERE. You see that, that's the shit Lung did.  
Tell me if you think your precious Halbeard could handle that shit.

 **► littleJOHN**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
...Wow. Looks like a nuke hit the Docks. I heard an explosion last night but I didn't think...wow.

 **► doublehander**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
I saw the explosion last night but I was real far from the Docks. I didn't think it was this bad. Fuck it, I'm calling it. Armsy's a Tinker not a Brute. No way he fought Lung. That report's definitely bull.

 **► Thoughtbroker**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Anyone notice the ground in the later pics? Those are footprints. Giant footprints. Lung would have to be pretty fucking big to make those prints. Armsmaster didn't do this solo. I doubt he did it at all.

 **► dead_man_dancing**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
That's some serious shit. That's almost like a quarter of the Docks fucked up. I wonder how many people fucking died.

 **► legostomper**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Thoughtbroker: The PRT wouldn't lie about this. Armsmaster beat Lung and he did it solo. Maybe it was lucky, maybe not but Armsmaster still won! Deal with it!

 **► lightningpork**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Everyone who says that Armsmaster beat Lung might want to look at these. I have picture of Lung right HERE. Warning, they're not pretty.

 **► EmoRap**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
...that's not Lung. And also...gross.

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 **(Showing Page 10 of 57)**

 **► Asstech**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
I have to agree with everyone else. That's definitely not Lung. I'm pretty sure that Armsmaster just beat some new Case 53 half to death. Cause I didn't realize he was that fucking brutal, man.

 **► Alienator**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
No, no...just no. This is fucked up! That's some cape brutality. If that's Lung, that's really shitty. If it's some new Case 53, that's even more fucked up. The eyes are all stabbed and shit. The skull is caved in, man! The Protectorate can't do this shit!

 **► creepycreep**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
No way that's Lung. Armsy definitely beat up some random Case 53.

 **► Oreolicker**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
The PRT wouldn't lie about this being Lung. Maybe something happened to him.

 **► blackcopters**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Oreolicker: The PRT and the Protectorate are government organizations. The govt. always lies.

 **► creepycreep**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
blackcopters: Thanks, bro but we don't need your craziness right now.

 **► blackcopters**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Oreolicker: Really? Cause I know what happened to Lung. I found out after doing some research.

 **► RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
blackcopters: I know I'm going to regret this but...what do you know?

 **► Asstech**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
No! Don't feed him!

 **► blackcopters**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Apparently, Lung got kidnapped by this secret government group who steal powers from capes and sell them for a lot of money. He killed some of the people trapping him, escaped from their secret hideout and stole one of their Trump powers. It fucked him up and made him really angry and he lost his mind when he got back to Brockton Bay and transformed from human to a real giant dragon. Because he works for the government, they sent Armsmaster out to silence Lung and told him not to hold back.

 **► RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
blackcopters:...Why did I even ask? That was so ridiculous...on like every level.

 **► cathead**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
That was a new type of crazy.

 **► Magic_Mikey**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
So, if Lung is red instead of silver now, how did that happen?

 **► LoserTed**  
Replied on April 12, 2011:  
Magic_Mikey: I'm gonna say...Fuckin Trumps. 

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 **(Showing Page 31 of 57)**

 **► RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Okay, I just got some BIG news from my friend at the PRT. Armsmaster didn't beat Lung. He took Lung in but someone else soloed the big bad dragon. Some kid triggered and then went out on his first night and took Lung down. Only reason Armsmaster got the cred is because he tranqued both Lung and the kid when they were too tired to fight back.

 **► legostomper**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
So, Armsmaster really didn't do it, huh?

 **► cathead**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
legostomper: No, apparently some kid did. This is crazy, right? Am I the only one who thinks this is insane?

 **► LoserTed**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Man, first we had the Mini-Alexandria, Glory Girl, and her sister, Panacea and now we've got this rookie who destroyed Lung his first day out. Young capes are just getting stronger.

 **► AdamRuinsEverything** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
What I find most surprising about all this is that Armsmaster would just tranq this new cape like that and claim the credit. Then again, I don't know Armsmaster personally so for all I know, he could be a serial killer that preys on criminals in his spare time. Wait...who am I kidding? That's ridiculous.

 **► Killerdave**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
AdamRuinsEverything: It is ridiculous. Where do you even come up with bullshit like that?...Everyone knows that's Shadow Stalker's job.

 **► Pitch44**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Anybody know anything else about this new cape? Ratings? Is he just a Brute?

 **► Newx3**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
He's definitely a high level Brute. He fought new Lung, didn't he?

 **► bangerwithcash**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Pitch44: The guy just triggered two days ago. No one was even there to see him fight. Why would there be any real info on him? Don't be dumb.

 **► Top_Gunner**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
I got a pic of the new cape. Check it out. Blond hair, Blue eyes, and he made his first target Lung. Seems like the Empire's wet dream. HERE you go.

 **► RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
...That's just a kid. Like, literally. He looks fourteen. I've got a little brother his age. This is insane.

 **► Asstech**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
RandomCapeGeek: How is that what you're focused on? It's not like there's other more important things in this picture like his head bleeding, or maybe his chest being cut open or...I don't know...the fact that HE'S NOT WEARING A FUCKING MASK!

 **► RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Asstech: I noticed all that stuff but I was just struck with how young he looks, Even if I had Eidolon's powers, I'd still be kind of scared to fight Lung. And this kid did it.

 **► LoserTed**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
I know what you mean, man. This kid looks so...normal. I guess with the mask, it's easy to forget that they're just people under there.

 **► RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
I can't believe Armsmaster tried to steal credit from this kid. Especially on his first night out. Dick move, broh.

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 **(Showing Page 44 of 57)**

 **► SpecificProtagonist**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Oh...My...God. I know this guy. Like, I seriously, literally, know him.

 **► Asstech**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
SpecificProtagonist: Come on, tell us! Who is he?

 **► SpecificProtagonist**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Can I actually say it? You're not supposed to out capes.

 **► legostomper**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
You're not supposed to but he's already outed anyway. These pictures of his face are all over the internet. It's not like telling us anything else is going to make anything worse.

 **► blackcopters**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
It's true. The guy's secret is toast by this point. He's gone full New Wave at this point.

 **► creepycreep**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
blackcopters: No, you never go full New Wave!

 **► SpecificProtagonist**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:

 **BLOCKED**

► **Tin_Mother (Moderator)**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
It is an individual cape's decision to choose whether to go public with their identity or not.  
Until then, all speculations will be held and any further attempts to out this cape will result in immediate one-month suspensions for the offending party.

 **► RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Ok, so definite Brute, likely a Mover and enemies with Empire and ABB.

 **► LoserTed**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
I wonder what this guy is really like. All we know about him is that he's a Brute tough enough to turn Lung's face into...hamburger meat? Yeah? Hamburger meat. Maybe he's a Trump too? Cause that would explain Lung.

 **► Clockblocker** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
You guys talking about Superior? He's pretty cool...for a Brute, you know.

 **► RandomCapeGeek** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Clockblocker: His name's Superior? Not bad. Pretty cool name, actually. Any more details? Does he have a Trump rating?

 **► Clockblocker** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a Trump rating. Honestly, he's kinda like Glory Girl. They're both blond Brutes who can get really scary.

 **► Asstech**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Scary how?

 **► Monkeydewnot**  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
Yeah, scary how?

 **► Clockblocker** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on April 13, 2011:  
I'm not going to say much. Just know that Superior's a lot like Glory Girl.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **42** **,** **43** **, 44,** **45** **,** **46** **...** **55** **,** **56** **,** **57**

**Private message from All_Seeing_Eye:**

 **All_Seeing_Eye:** So, you ready for tomorrow?  
 **Spider_Queen:** I'm still not a hundred percent sure about this.  
 **All_Seeing_Eye:** I get it. You're scared about the job.  
 **Spider_Queen:** No! It's not that I don't want to. I just didn't think want to think that the Protectorate weren't really good guys but I saw what Armsmaster did. And the way they just labeled you guys like that. It was just so unfair! You guys haven't even done anything actually...villainy but a heist? That sounds bad, like seriously bad.  
 **All_Seeing_Eye:** Trust me, the bank's covered with insurance and it's not like anyone's actually going to get hurt. Nothing actually bad is going to happen.  
 **Spider_Queen:** I just don't know if I can do this.  
 **All_Seeing_Eye:** Really? This coming from the girl who helped put down Lung? Come on, you know you've got this.  
 **Spider_Queen:** I guess so.  
 **All_Seeing_Eye:** K, meet us at the hideout at 4 tomorrow.  
 **Spider_Queen:** Sure, see you there.

-


	27. Interlude 2e: Armsmaster-Colin Wallis

Anyway, I haven't done an Armsmaster Interlude yet. So, I thought it time to check in on our dear old friend, Colin.  
So here we go, Interlude 2e. Enjoy.

_

 **Interlude 2e: Armsmaster/Colin Wallis**

"She's still doing it...It's been exactly forty-nine days since she started and she hasn't changed since."

"Hmmm..."

"It's rather odd. I suspect that the excessive damage she accrued while in Canberra might have caused a change in behavior."

"...yes..."

"Although, that's unlikely. She has received damage before. Not quite to that extent, but still...I don't understand why she just keeps smiling like that."

"...mmhmmm..."

"It makes no sense. She has displayed expressions before but they were for short instances. It goes against all the data I've compiled on her."

"...interesting..."

"...Although, the cause of the odd behavior might be that mysterious parahuman, Hyperion. There's been no trace of him apart from that post on Parahumans Online. He seemed to have some strange connection to the Simurgh and his sudden disappearance...It's troubling to consider the implications. It's just..."

"...this is so..."

"...frustrating." "...complicated."

"What do you think, Colin?"

"...hmm."

"Colin?"

"..."

"...Armsmaster."

"Huh?" Colin Wallis jerked his head upwards from his workstation as Dragon called his name, the strands of silvery material in his hands falling and spreading out on the table in front of him. He whipped his head around in confusion as if shocked at the realization that he wasn't alone in his lab. With his mouth slightly agape in surprise, he spoke. "...Dragon?"

"Hello, Colin. I arrived over ten minutes ago and until this point, I thought we were having a conversation. Or was that just me?" The voice of the Canadian tinker came through the speakers in a dispassionate tone with a slight undercurrent of irritation. Any normal man would realize the shift in tone and act accordingly.

Armsmaster stretched, cracking his neck with a series of uncomfortable popping noises, and rubbed his rather unkempt beard. "Oh...I didn't notice you."

Unfortunately for him, Colin Wallis was not a normal man.

Dragon's tone somehow became even colder as she continued to speak, gaining a frigid quality that was unlike her. "You didn't notice me?"

Blinking at the sudden change in tone, Armsmaster paused before speaking, uncomfortably aware of Dragon's likely irritation. In all their previous interactions, Dragon had been cordial, warm even, when she spoke to him. He doubted he did anything to upset her. 'Regardless, I should make an effort to placate her. If I engage her in conversation, she should relax somewhat. Females enjoy speaking about their problems.'

"I apologize, Dragon. I was busy Tinkering and was unaware that you had arrived. If I had known, I would have spoken to you. I do enjoy our discussions."  
'Calm delivery, pleasant and non-agressive tone, passive language. Excellent for dealing with an emotional female.'

Colin had recently taken to reading women's magazines, mostly due to the fact that he spent a lot of his time around females. He believed it was helping him interpret female social cues. It wasn't. He had, however, learned that Cosmopolitan seemed to have more 'Ways to Blow His Mind' than the Kama Sutra.

Dragon didn't say anything for a bit before letting out a sigh. "...You've shut down all your video screens and you haven't been answering your phone or your communicator. Colin, when was the last time you left your lab?"

"What?"

"When did you last leave your lab?", she repeated calmly.

"I admit that I have been distant over the past f-"

"Colin...look at yourself. Look around you. You're a mess."

Colin sighed, rubbing a hand through his unruly beard and glanced around at his lab, the edges of his mouth turned downwards into a small scowl. Papers and equipment were in disarray, thrown all over the usually pristine lab. Multiple beakers of his own specialized, caffeine-based stimulant were left unwashed and his suit sat on the floor, scattered without care. Noticing a mirror in the corner of his eye, he turned to face it, cringing as he finally caught sight of himself.

"Look at this. This isn't like you," she continued, her voice almost pleading.

He closed his eyes. Dragon was all too right. He didn't recognize himself at all. He was efficient, neat, ordered and practical above all else. However, the man in front of him was a disgusting mess. He was wearing a gray t-shirt and a pair of gray fleece jogger pants that had honestly seen better days. Stains were all over his clothes. Sweat, grease, oil and other mysterious substances coated his outfit. Rips and burns marred his clothes while his face and bare arms were stained with grease and oil stains. Red-rimmed eyes stared back at him while the skin around them were puffy and inflamed from his lack of sleep. Worst of all was his most prized and feature...his beard. His once meticulously combed facial hair was overgrown, matted, rough and full of various crumbs and remains of the few meals he had consumed over his self-enforced exile.

Honestly, the way he looked now, he would fit right in with Skidmark, Squealer and the rest of their Merchant scum. Grimacing, he turned away from his reflection and hung his head.

This was not like him at all. He was Armsmaster. He was the epitome of efficiency, order, and protocol. He made it his duty to make sure the Protectorate ran smoothly. He took it upon himself to reduce the ongoing rise of crime in Brockton Bay. People knew him. People respected him. A certain level of prestige would always be out of his reach and he was aware of that. He knew he could never be on the same level as his mentor. He could never be a hero like Hero but he received respect for his own actions. At least, he used too. New, young parahumans...powerful enough to one day be considered on the same level as the Triumvirate. Dauntless...Glory Girl...and that...that Superior boy...they were unskilled, true, but they would only get better. He was nearing the limits of what his Tinkering could do and as he got older, his training would become less and less useful.

"...three days. It's been three days but I have been busy Tinkering. I haven't had time to leave," Armsmaster answered, frowning slightly.

"Don't lie to me, Colin. From what I can see, you haven't taken a single step outside of this area since we last spoke three days ago. I doubt you've even showered...or slept. What's wrong?"

Armsmaster leaned against his workstation with his arms folded, a cloudy expression on his face. "Is this what you wanted to speak about?"

"No. I wanted to speak about the Simurgh."

Colin sighed. "Again? We've been over this." And they had. Several times, in fact. When Dragon had informed him that the Simurgh had been...smiling, his interest was piqued. One of the Endbringers displaying abnormal behavioral patterns was obviously a matter of extreme importance. However, there was only so many times that a man could look at video of a angelic murderbeast smiling serenely before he felt incredibly bored with the topic, especially when nothing else about her behavior had changed.

"I said that I wanted to. Right now, I feel that helping you is more important. Now, just tell me why you're behaving like this. Is it because of Lung and the new cape? The way you explained the matter to me, it made sense. I understood that you were trying to pro-"

"No," Armsmaster interrupted firmly. "It's not that."

"Well, then enlighten me...what is it?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he walked over to a screen embedded into the wall next to the door leading out of his lab and quickly pressed a few buttons on the panel just below it.

The screen turned on, displaying the face of a young woman with facial features that were rather beautiful. Despite the fact that Dragon had never mentioned it, Armsmaster knew it wasn't Dragon's real appearance. The face in front of him was so unremarkable that it was actually remarkable. Nearly everyone who looked at it would find something familiar about it while still thinking it was rather pretty. It was uncanny exactly how average it was. Regardless, he still liked to talk to Dragon "face-to-face."

"Colin?"

"...I was demoted."

"Demoted? When?", Dragon asked, eyes widening slightly in shock.

"Three days ago..."

"I spoke to Miss Militia and Director Piggot just yesterday. They didn't mention anything like this to me."

"Well, that's because it's an...unofficial demotion. Nothing's actually on record...but everyone still knows. Miss Militia will be handling my duties...," he paused, scowling fiercely, "...indefinitely and I am to dedicate my time towards improving myself and my...behavior. At least, until Director Piggot feels that I am suitable to resume my position as Leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. All of this because of...that boy," he finished, nearly growling the last few words.

Dragon's face fell as she heard him speak. "Colin..."

He bent over his workstation, fists clenched, his back to Dragon.

"This city needs me! There's no doubt that Kaiser's going to expand with the ABB as weak as it is now. Lung may be in custody but the ABB isn't going to let that stop them for long. Last time, the ABB, the Empire and the Merchants were just testing each other, barely even fighting." Colin let out a heavy breath, his shoulders shaking in anger.

"Now, all we have to look forward to is a gang war that will destroy this entire city instead of a mere riot that spilled out into the streets. And...that boy...Superior...I've read the notes on his files. He's not a natural parahuman. He's the product of a Tinker. Maybe even a group of Tinkers that specialize in power-granting. We're possibly looking at an army of raging capes on his level...This city needs me more than ever...and she wants me out of the way, says I need to improve! Me? All I do is improve! Every single day, I get better, more efficient and that...that woman wants to criticize me? Me, the only person in this worthless organization that works himself to the bone to be the very best! This is my life! I do nothing else! Everyone else goes home and I'm here for days at a time, working and improving! And Piggot wants to sideline **ME**?!" Colin punctuated his anger by slamming his fists on a workstation, the action sending beakers crashing to the floor and scattering papers all over.

Piggot truly enraged him. A woman blinded by her fear. She was terrified of another cape with capabilities similar to Nilbog and at the same time was worried about the PR fallout from his actions against that same boy. How dare she? She wasn't there. She didn't feel the murderous rage rolling off that cape. At the time, Colin didn't care about whether he was a boy or not. He was ready to kill and Armsmaster had responded in a calm, moderate manner to prevent the boy from hurting him and inflicting more damage on his already mutilated body. And he was punished for that. He should be commended for his actions. Miss Militia would have responded to imminent death like that with a massive RPG. Battery, the hothead that she was, would have tried to punch his head off. Assault, being a former villain, would have responded with the lethal action at his first opportunity. Dauntless, that jackass, who knows what that fool would have done? 'Pathetic.'

Dragon said nothing, simply staring at Armsmaster as he finished his outburst. This definitely wasn't like Colin. He never showed his emotions like this. She wasn't even sure what to say at this point other than "Are you okay?"

Colin took many deep, ragged breaths as his powerful, muscled arms clenched the edges of the metal workstation. "I'll be fine. I admit that I am rather stressed but it comes with the job after all...It's just...I know that Piggot doesn't understand what she's doing by demoting me. She didn't even listen to Miss Militia's protests. Piggot's not out there with us, fighting, patrolling, keeping Brockton safe. She knows nothing about what this city's underbelly is like. In fact, Clockblocker knows more about the behavior of the criminal capes in Brockton than she does. She sits in her office all day, thinking she understands how this city works. She barely knows a thing...and I just know this city's going to end up paying the price for it."

Colin took one more deep breath and let it out slowly, his heart rate lowering to what he felt was appropriate. He stood up straight and faced his fellow Tinker with a weak smile on his face. "Dragon, would you mind excusing me for a while? I have something rather important to work on. I'll contact you after I've finished."

Dragon returned his weak smile with one of her own. She knew Armsmaster was stressed but this...this was unexpected. He was near his breaking point. She cared for Colin and if he needed his space, she would acquiesce to his request. Honestly, she was glad that he felt comfortable enough around her to speak like this as well as oddly reassured to see him this free with his feelings. It wasn't that she wanted him to feel stressed, of course not. It was simply that often, when she and Armsmaster would talk, she tended to feel that she was more human among the two of them. She appreciated Armsmaster's determination but sometimes he was much too focused. He needed moments like this, if only to release some pent-up aggression. "Okay...It'll get better, Colin. Just remember, you're Armsmaster for a reason. She knows how much you're needed. It's only a matter of time."

Colin's smile increased as she said that and Dragon felt _something_ at the thought that she could improve his mood with just a few words. "Goodbye, Colin...and try to get some rest."

And with that, the screen shut down and the lab was left in silence once more.

'I'm sorry, Dragon, but I have too much work to do to rest now. I'll sleep when I'm dead.' And he meant it. Colin Wallis hadn't had a single moment of rest in over forty-eight hours, relying on only his non-combat stimulant shots, a specialized mixture comprised of norepinephrine, epinephrine, caffeine and a slight amount of amphetamines. He needed to finish his work before he could even think of rest. His life really depended on it.

Colin turned back to his workstation, a small smile still on his face, and as he looked down at the silvery threads on the table in front of him, his smile only increased.

Superior...that boy...was definitely the product of more than one Tinker. At the very least, he had to be affiliated with two skilled Tinkers. One to grant him the rather incredible powers that he had displayed in his melee against Lung and another to make the suit that he had worn into the fight.

That suit lay in front of him, most of it split apart into long, thin metallic threads. He had no idea why he had decided to keep it that night when the PRT EMT's had cut it off him. The thing was burnt and tattered, little more than shreds after the boy had gotten pummeled by Lung. It had seemed worthless but now...he definitely wasn't complaining. It was a goldmine.

Impact resistant...Resilient against extremes of heat...Water repellent...Self-repairing and Self-cleaning...A paper-thin body armor constructed entirely from nanobots and nanomaterial. It was designed with high-power rechargeable batteries with nanoscale solar panels as well as a digital storage capacity that would be able to store the files of the entire Protectorate while running all his programs simultaneously a hundred times over. A truly incredible piece of technology...except for the fact that it wasn't.

It wasn't really the suit that was impressive, no. It wasn't the design, not at all. Honestly, Armsmaster knew he could design something much better if he put his mind to it. It was the material that had shocked him. Anyone who knew what they were doing could make a suit out of these programmable nanobots and this flexible nanomaterial. After some investigation, he had noticed the suit that Superior had on seemed not just shoddy, but hastily constructed as well. Almost as if the Tinker who had made it was not only lacking in skill but in somewhat of a rush. The more Armsmaster looked at the suit, the more his Tinker sense seemed to scream at him that the work was lazy, shoddy, and worst of all... **INEFFICIENT**.

That could not stand. For over three days, he had used the allure of the suit's impressive design to take his thoughts away from the embarrassment Piggot had caused him by stripping him of his position. He was all too glad for the distraction. Since that night, his mind had been racing with a multitude of methods he could use in an attempt to improve the suit's capabilities, ways that he could implement the material in his other works...including his weaponry. After all, he had already been working on nano-scale weapons. This would only serve to raise the quality of his work to new heights. Now, he didn't have to worry about limits, about diminishing returns, about losing the respect he had fought tooth and nail for. With Tinker-tech like this, even Dauntless, the rising star of Brockton Bay, would be little more than an ant compared to him. He would never have to worry about living up to Hero's legacy. Once he finished this project, the name Armsmaster would be spoken in the same breath as any of the Triumvirate.

He chuckled slowly, an unexplained feeling of mirth rising up inside him. After struggling and failing to hold it in, Colin gave in to the spontaneous and uncharacteristic surge of emotion and threw his head back, letting out a deep belly laugh as he thought about what the future could hold. Armsmaster, Head of the National Protectorate. Why not? Hero had always told him to reach for the stars. No matter what it took, Brockton Bay was going to be safe and under control...his control.

It seemed like Dragon had been right after all. It was only a matter of time.

_

_ __

 _"Thinking in isolation and with pride ends in being an idiot."_  
— **G. K. Chesterton**


	28. Complications 2-7A

**Complications 2.7**

The Brockton Bay Central Bank was busy as usual. Dozens of people waited in several lines to accomplish their banking-based errands.

Among those in need of the bank's services was New Wave's own Panacea, although as she wasn't in costume, she liked to be referred to as Amy.

Today wasn't a good day for Amy, not at all. Her sister had spent most of the school day nuzzling up to her boyfriend and that had stirred up a hornet's nests of emotions that she didn't really feel like analyzing. Not to mention, Chris had been trying to talk to ask her out in his own subtle way. His methods were obviously less than subtle if Vicky could pick up on it. Now she had to hope that Vicky didn't try to set up her own 'Glorious Date!'() for her and Chris.

However, the cause of her irritation right now was something a bit more petty.

'Oh, hurry up...'

'...come on, what are you even doing?'

'Oh God and Scion, what I would give for some special treatment right now? Would it be too much to ask for my own line? I save lives here!'

The bank itself was the issue.

Amy had always disliked banks and she felt she was perfectly justified in feeling that way. And why shouldn't she?

They combined several things she hated into one big, annoying place and Brockton Bay Central was no different.

Long lines, customers in front of her who always had ridiculous and complicated transactions, and the annoying tellers. Scion, she hated those tellers.

The second they saw her name, they always wanted to talk to her about something stupid before she could get done with her actual bank-related business. Always so fake and smiley. Asking her about her day, her family, her fucking entire life story. She knew that they knew that she knew they didn't care.

They were doing it for one reason and one reason only.

 _'Oh, Panacea, I think I might have the flu. Can you help me out?'_

'It's not flu...and for wasting my time, you have AIDS.'

 _'Panacea, please help me out. My girlfriend's gonna dump me! Just an inch or two.'_

'Fuck you and your girlfriend. Oh wait, you can't... you have no dick.'

 _'Oh, Panacea, I was thinking about getting plastic surgery. Could you do a gal a favor and boost me up a few cup sizes?'_

'Here...now you'll never need to buy milk again.'

 _'One favor. You know, we're friends, right. I have this zit right here. Could you help me out?'_

'...Drown in your acne and die.'

She had to deal with shit like that all the time. And if she didn't help them out, they'd bitch at her the whole time she was at the teller and make the whole thing take forever. Just once, she wished that she could say or do something instead of just having fun imagining it. 'But no, I'm Panacea, a hero. A hero wouldn't do that.'

Her inner rant against the banking system and the annoying tellers that serviced it was suddenly halted as her ears were suddenly assaulted by a sound that made her freeze for a moment.

A loud noise suddenly came from somewhere outside the bank, like the deep, rough barking of some sort of massive dog. Something about that seemed very familiar...what exactly was familiar about it seemed to be escaping her at the moment, though.

She turned around quickly, trying to see what was going on. Before she could even see the entrance of the bank, everything went black.

For an instant, she thought she was blind.

That instant passed when the darkness began to recede, converging in a dark haze at the center of the bank. As her hearing returned to her, the sound of people's screaming hit her eardrums and she choked on a scream as a swarm of bugs crawled, slithered, creeped, wriggled, squirmed **,** flew from the dark fog and flooded the bank floor. Nearly everyone in the bank rushed back, Amy included, running toward the walls in an attempt to avoid the biblical swarm of insects.

The bugs apparently did not appreciate that as they immediately began to herd everyone towards the center of the bank lobby.

She felt her gut sink even more as a group of costumed individuals appeared from that fading haze. She recognized them on sight. New Wave often held bi-weekly briefings to go over tactics concerning Brockton Bay's villain community and the team in front of them had been the topic of many a discussion.

'The Undersiders...these assholes.'

Tattletale stood in front, a gun in her hand, smirking as her eyes trailed over every single person in the entire bank. Regent stood to her right, a silver crown on his head, twirling a silver scepter around like some demented jester. Grue was on the far left, darkness leaking from his motorcycle helmet and leather long-coat, creating an aura of black fog that surrounded his team. Hellhound stood behind the other three, her arms and legs disproportionately large, grotesquely discolored and covered with bumps, spikes and odd growths. Next to her stood a long-haired figure in a jet-black costume that screamed 'I'm the one with the bugs!' simply from the design of the mask itself.

She didn't know the bug girl's name...which was great.

'Undersiders got a new member. Wonder-fucking-ful...What the...HOLY SHIT!'

All the terrified screams in the Bank ceased almost instantly as something...no, three somethings leapt out of Grue's jacket and everyone in the bank caught sight of something even more terrifying than the supervillains.

If someone had asked Amy if they were dogs, she might have said yes...maybe.

They could have been dogs, right? Possibly.

If dogs were seven feet tall.

If dogs had skin that looked like pulverized hamburger meat left to rot in the sun.

If dogs had teeth the size of butcher knives.

If dogs had giant bone spikes jutting from their skin in random places.

Until they didn't look like they could swallow her whole, the same way a puppy could swallow a treat, she'd never think of them as dogs. No, they were monsters.

Amy's eye twitched as she took in the appearance of the newest villain team to hit Brockton Bay with their massive mounts and she clenched her fist in anger. 'Why did they have to pick now...while I'm still in here? Fuck these guys!'

"Fifteen minutes," spoke the bug girl in a calm, resolute tone. "We won't be here any longer than that. Stay put, stay quiet, stay on the ground. We'll be gone before fifteen minutes are up. You'll be free to give your statement to the police and then go about your day as usual. This isn't a TV show, this isn't a movie. If you're thinking about being a hero, don't. Seriously, don't be a hero. You'll only get yourself or someone else hurt. You see those bugs, they're only in place to prevent you from doing anything stupid. Just stay in the circle. They won't enter that circle unless you give me a reason."

She was really convincing, Amy had to admit that. The instructions were simple, they sounded reasonable and no one wanted to get hurt. After sharing some scared looks among each other, every single person in the bank, herself included, followed her instructions, hesitantly getting on the ground. What was she supposed to do right now? She was strictly touch-based. 'Maybe if they stayed still and didn't move at all for ten seconds, I could knock them out. As if...Scion damnit, fuck banks!'

Fuck banks, indeed. Above every single other reason, there was one major motivation behind Amy's hatred of banks. Something she knew occurred somewhat often but never expected to happen while she was **IN** one. 'I mean, come the fuck on! Right now, though! What are the fucking odds?'

Banks were huge targets for villains. It was a fact. A fact she fucking hated.

As Amy lowered herself to the ground, she eyed the almost uncountable swarm of insects that kept her and all the other hostages corralled in the lobby and noticed the unnatural way all the flying, crawling, slithering bugs were just waiting in place, making a perfect circle around the hostages. God, it was almost creepier this way. Having hundreds of thousands of bugs just in the same room as you was more terrifying than any gun. These guys were good.

With a sigh, Amy curled in on herself and did her best to hide her face. What better hostage could someone have than Panacea? She just knew that Carol would never let her forget about it.

Besides, she really didn't need to be a target today.

MedHall Pharmaceuticals

His office, like many things Maximus Anders owned, was large and ostentatious. Built on the top floor of a skyscraper with large floor to ceiling windows, it was filled with all sorts of metal sculptures and statues.

Some people would find that odd. After all, Max Anders didn't seem the type to be too into art.

Metal seemed to be a motif for Mr. Anders. At least in design. Metal floor, metal ceiling, metal bookcases, metal chairs and last but certainly not least, a large, ornate and most of all, imposing, metal and glass desk.

Everything in the room screamed wealth, power and influence. If no one stopped him, Greg might have simply poked around it for hours. That is, if his attention wasn't being drawn by the rather courteous verbal battle taking place in front of him.

"Mr. Anders, while your offer does seem to have merit, you have to understand the position we're in. My client is a limited resource that is in high demand," spoke a smooth, cultured voice with a slight Spanish accent.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that. That's why I made him the offer that I did," retorted a voice that was, while not quite as cultured, still rather eloquent.

"...Forgive me if I'm overstepping here, but it just seems like you're trying to cheat him out of a fair deal."

"What? He's my godson. Why would I want to cheat him? I believe that the offer I made is quite generous," Maxim said calmly, settling back into his large leather business chair.

"If you say so..."

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Max stared quietly at the gentleman sitting directly in front of his large ninety-inch ornate metal and glass desk. "I do say so, Mr. Calle," Max replied, his expression still an unperturbed smile.

Quinn Calle chuckled softly, the spit curl from his silky black hair bouncing as his shoulders shook. "The thing is, Mr. Anders, I have made a business of assisting capes. And my assistance is obviously needed in this situation. Ms. Veder called me for a reason...correct?"

Both handsome, well-dressed men slowly turned to face Susan and she immediately shrunk in on herself.

"Umm...well," Susan mumbled, quickly focusing on straightening the jacket of her black pantsuit in an attempt to gather her thoughts. Why, oh why, were they asking her questions? Their conversation...their subtle arguing...GAH! It had just been so distracting and...'Why did they have to be so handsome? A smooth Latin lawyer who puts his life on the line helping capes or a charming CEO with a piercing stare who could have a whole secret life behind closed doors with handcuffs, black latex andwaitwhatamITHINKING? NO, NO, NO! Scion damnit, Susan! Stop reading those books!'

As Susan slowly dragged her mind out of the gutter it was in, she scrambled to think of something to say. She had no idea this whole thing would turn out like this. She only called Mr. Quinn this morning and told him the situation because she had heard that he was one of the best cape lawyers around and she didn't want to go into business without having a good lawyer. She didn't expect him to come right over once she told him the entire situation. She most definitely didn't expect to speak to Max today. She was pretty sure she had said some rather inappropriate things yesterday. 'Oh sweet Scion, they're still looking at me! What should I say? What should I say?'

"I...um...I didn't want...I just thought some legal advice would...be...helpful. Everything was just happening so quickly," she squeaked out.

Mr. Calle's smile achieved a level of satisfaction that Greg honestly found rather impressive. Smug without being too smug. Impressive. Evron could learn something from this guy.

He turned from Greg's mother and faced Max once more. "You see, Mr. Anders, Ms. Veder just needed some legal advice."

Greg and his mother sighed almost simultaneously as they watched Max once again enter a stare-down with their newly hired lawyer. Both of them still had pleasant smiles on their faces but Greg could almost sense the distaste running between them. Then again, they were two successful men. Massive egos were in play.

"Let's be clear on one thing, Mr. Anders. Mr. Veder here," Quinn paused, glancing over at Greg on his left, "is a limited resource that is in high demand in today's society. Not only is he a rather powerful cape, he's unmasked. The public would flock to him."

Max kept his eyes on Quinn, his demeanor still unruffled. "I do understand your point. However, he's also rather young. What you're asking for seems rather exorbitant given the fact that he's only been out for one night. The public has no idea who he is."

Mr. Calle's smile became positively devious as Max spoke and for a second Max wondered what the man was thinking. He didn't have to wonder much longer.

"You obviously haven't been on the Parahumans Online forum, Mr. Anders. People from New York down to California are clamoring to find out about the cape who defeated Lung. He's almost as popular as that mysterious Hyperion fellow. Youth. Power. Beauty. Mr. Veder has those in spades. He's a precious resource, Mr. Anders. Your company makes more than drugs. You produce soft drinks, teas, soaps, deodorant, and a few other items. In a year or two, Superior will be a household name all over America. Greg could go to other companies, bigger companies. I could have this boy's face on a Nike ad by Monday. You want his name backing your company? Make my client a better offer."

Quinn stopped speaking and the room was silent once again. Although, this time it wasn't due to a staring contest between the two men in suits.

In the tense silence that followed, Greg and his mom shared a few looks and more than a few gestures. Greg wasn't sure what half of them meant but he was pretty sure his mom wanted him to say something.

Clearing his throat, Greg leaned forward, freeing himself from the plush lining of the white guest chair. "Uhh...Mr. Calle?"

"Yes, Greg?"

Greg sat up straight and flashed an awkward smile at his godfather and lawyer. Simply being in the same room as these two was stressful. The way they spoke, the way they moved, even their expressions...these guys were just so...rich. Hell, those suits were probably more expensive than his mom's car by themselves. Greg swallowed slowly as he took in their appearances once again.

Despite their differing racial backgrounds, the two men were eerily similar. They both had meticulously styled hair, expensive custom suits (Quinn wore tan, Max wore black), and those scary smiles...Max's was hungry, shark-like, even while Quinn's was patient, sneaky, somewhat like a snake.

Huh...that actually fit. The business shark and the snake-like lawyer.  
Right now, Greg just felt so...out of his league. Glancing over at his mom, he noticed her red face as she continued to stare at the two men. 'She probably feels out of her league too.'

Greg glanced back at the two men, lingering once more on their well-groomed hair and expensive custom suits. He felt a tinge of heat in his cheeks, noticing that he looked a bit ridiculous in his simple white shirt, black tie, slacks and sneakers. Oh, and how could he forget, his fucking Mohawk.

"Mr. Calle, I don't think...see, me and...My mother and I never actually heard any offer. You just looked at a piece of paper and said 'No deal,'" Greg answered.

A look of faint surprise appeared on both Mr. Calle's and Max's face as well. "Ah...," Quinn finally responded after a few moments of silence. "Isn't this embarrassing?"

Greg cocked his head slightly in confusion. 'Don't tell me that you two were enjoying yourselves so much you forgot we were here.'

"The thing is, when you've been a lawyer as long as I have, you get used to clients letting you do the talking. I sincerely apologize for that, Mr. Veder, Ms. Veder," he responded, his charming smile eliciting a slight shudder from his mother.

Quinn reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a small folded slip of white paper, roughly twice the size of a post-it note.  
"I don't know what you were expecting, but this is his first offer," he continued, offering the note to Greg.

He took the note from Mr. Calle and opened it slowly, his mother reading over his shoulder.

Greg's eyes widened as soon as they fell on the paper.

The note fell from his fingers shortly before his mother collapsed into her seat, clutching her chest.

"...a million dollar a year contract...for 5 years?", asked Greg, breathing heavily. "That sounds amazing!"

"Except it's not," interrupted Calle. "That's nothing. Chump change...athletes get more than that. You don't understand your value, Greg but I think your godfather does." Turning back to Max, he uncrossed his legs and stood up, looming over the seated CEO with his full height of six feet, two inches. "My final offer...five million dollars a year for five years plus the little bonus you mentioned earlier. That's the deal, Mr. Anders. It's up to you to take it."

Max raised one eyebrow quizzically but his gray eyes never left Quinn's hazel ones. "...And if I don't?"

Quinn turned to give Greg and his mother a quick glance before returning to Max. "Then someone else will. I'm sure Apple wouldn't mind taking him off your hands."

Max stood up quickly, placing his hands on his desk and leaning forward. He wasn't quite as tall as Quinn but there wasn't much difference. He stared directly at his opponent, a bright, beaming smile on his face that just screamed insincerity. "Mr. Calle, I like you. I really do. You do good work. If it wasn't for the fact that you exclusively handled parahumans, you'd be my personal lawyer. Since you work for my godson, I'll accept your deal."

"Wonderful. Have your people send the contract to my office."

"I'll have that done by tomorrow."

"Perfect."

The two shook on it, still flashing each other those wide, predatory grins.

Greg and his mother stood up to join them. His mother stepped towards Mr. Calle, shaking his hand firmly. "Susan, thank you for this opportunity. I'll make sure to represent your son to the best of my ability. And don't worry about today...I'm waiving the fee."

"Thank you, Mr. Calle. You have no idea how much this means to me."

While his mother continued to thank his lawyer, Greg was busy talking to his godfather who was now his new boss, as well.

"Sorry about this, Uncle Max. I didn't know Quinn was gonna be like that. I thought he was just gonna be there to...I dunno...give advice."

Max chuckled softly. "No problem. Honestly, I'm glad you brought him. He has skill and he's a lawyer. Besides, he's more invested in this than you are. The more money you have...the more you can pay him with. Isn't that right, Calle?"

Quinn sighed, still smiling. "I do have to make money, after all. Besides, I'm sure the Veders understand." Glancing at Greg, he nodded. "You do understand, don't you?"

Greg shrugged. "I...don't really care. I need a lawyer and you're the best cape lawyer on the East Coast so...yeah. It'd make no sense for you not to want money."

Quinn's eyes flicked to Susan. "Ms. Veder?"

She flashed him a smile. "If Greg's fine with it, I'm fine with it."

"Well, if everything's settled, then there's only one thing left to do," Max began.

Greg cocked his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

His mother was curious as well. "Yeah, Max, what do you mean?"

Max only smiled at them. Slowly reaching into his jacket pocket, Max brought out an angular white and silver device and held it out. "This is for you, Greg."

Taking hold of the device, Greg looked it over carefully, noting the crown logo on the back. "Is this...is this a new phone? You're giving me a new phone? Thanks, Uncle Max."

"It's more than a new phone. I purchased this from Toybox," he began, folding his hands together. "It's a phone designed to supplement your heroing. It's connected to a little twenty-four hour group that I set up. Constantly scanning police radio and alerting you in case of an emergency. Determining the severity of the situation and giving you a rating for it, navigation to guide you to the location of said situation and a direct line to the PRT Emergency Line. You'll never have to worry about having a signal and it's rather durable as well."

An odd look passed over Greg's face and he glanced down at the shiny device in his hands. "Durable...How durable?"

Max's smile dissapeared and was replaced with a blank expression. "...Please don't test it, Greg. It's supposed to be able to take multiple blows from a sledgehammer. I don't think it would survive **you** actively trying to destroy it."

Greg nodded. "Fair enough."

"Anyway, it's solar powered, water-proof, temperature resistant and ,theoretically, should function anywhere on Earth. Regardless, I still wante-" Max paused as a loud and rather high-pitched noise suddenly interrupted him.

" _bip-bib-bip-bib-bip-bib-bip-bib-bip-bib-bip-bib-bip-bib-bip-bib-bip"_

The phone in Greg's hands made that noise as it turned on automatically, the logo of a crown appearing on the screen. A few seconds later, text appeared on the screen. **Code P10-90 at Brockton Bay Central Bank.** **Robbery in Progress.**

 **Parahuman Suspects Likely.**

 **PRT notified** **.**

"Holy...," Greg paused and turned to the three other people in the office room. "There's a robbery at Brockton Bay Central. There might be some capes there."

"...Do you want to go?", asked Susan.

"Yes, why not? Get yourself out there. Let the people know you. Show them what Superior's all about," Max replied.

"But...look at me! I'm not dressed to fight!," Greg shouted.

Quinn nodded, rubbing his goatee. "True. Maybe you should sit this one out."

Susan took his hand. "It's okay if you don't want to go, sweetie...not that I don't want you to go. If you want to go, you can go...follow your dreams."

Greg scrunched up his face in confusion and gave his mother a questioning stare.

"What do you want from me? How many mothers do you think wants their son running into danger? Huh? Don't give me that look. I'm doing my best here trying to deal with all of this," she replied with a huff.

Greg shrugged, trying not to laugh at the pout on his mother's face. "Fair enough. I'm not sure I want to fight crime like this though. I'd look kind of dumb."

Max chuckled at Greg's statement, a derisive, mocking chuckle that caused everyone to turn and look at him. "Oh...excuse me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I just can't believe what I'm hearing."

"What do you mean?", Greg asked, crossing his arms.

Max leaned forward, his nose almost touching his steepled fingers. "You don't want to stop a bank robbery...because you're worried you'll look stupid in a dress shirt and tie?"

"NO! I just mean...heroes have costumes. Lung burnt my costume off. I can't fight crime without a costume. I'll look ridiculous. It'll be embarrassing," he replied, shaking his head.

Max nodded in understanding. "Ah...I get it now. You're not scared of the criminals, you're scared of them making fun of you. That makes perfect sense."

Greg felt his cheeks heating up and he spluttered, anger causing him to stumble over his words. "N-n-no! That's not...not it! T-that's not it at all!"

A tilt of the head and a single eye raise was Max's only response.

"It's not like that!", Greg shouted.

"Then why are you scared?"

"I'm not!"

Max's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh...you're not? Then why don't you want to go?"

"I do!"

Without Max seeming to move a muscle, a single pane on the wall-to-ceiling window opened up and wind whipped into the office, surprising Greg slightly and shocking both Susan and Mr. Calle, although he hid his reaction much better. Max simply raised an eyebrow. "Then hurry up. The bank's barely ten miles away."

Greg turned to face Max, his eyes red, and growled.

Max yawned. "Was that supposed to scare me?"

Greg dropped the phone on his godfather's desk and turned away.

Without saying a single word, he jumped from the top floor.

The office was silent as the window returned to it's former position.

"Really, Max?", Susan said, finally. "I mean, really?"

Quinn shook his head. "I agree. I doubt that was necessary."

Rolling his eyes, Max settled even further into his plush desk chair and pulled out a cigar, biting it harshly.

"It worked, didn't it?"

By the time Greg landed on the closest roof, his clip-on tie had been ripped off by the wind.

His blonde Mohawk blew in the wind as he moved like a man possessed, avoiding obstacles with ease. Leaping across the skyline of Brockton Bay, he cleared two or three roofs at a time, landing almost perfectly with each bound.

Despite his graceful movements, his chest was filled with a faint heat that he recognized as rage and his eyes were a bright red hue, a sure sign of his anger.

'Does he think I'm stupid?' Greg thought to himself, jumping over a smokestack without even paying attention. 'I know he was playing me. He knew that I knew but he still did it! Who does he think he is?'

He ignored the faint voice inside him that said "The guy paying you five million dollars."

Greg shook his head, trying to clear his head. He couldn't afford to be occupied right now.

There was a bank robbery. People were in danger. They needed him.

Flipping off a rooftop, he deftly landed on the mostly empty sidewalk below and sped off, shocking a homeless man into dropping his hat full of coins.

"Sorry, old man!" Greg called out behind him, not looking back. He doubted the guy heard him, anyway. At this speed, he probably only saw a blur.

Speed. That reminded him...He had to move it!

A minute after he had started running, his sneakers had already started breaking apart.

Two minutes later, he was moving as fast as a race car and completely barefoot.

'The bank!' The Brockton Bay Central Bank was in front of him. Well, it was about a mile and a half away but that was nothing at his speed. Slowing down, Greg began to approach the bank at a pace much closer to the speed limit as he scoped out the situation.

No capes were outside yet but there were plenty of cops. So he was the first hero here, huh. Maybe he should stop? Talk to the police. See what's going on. He contemplated it for an instant before changing his mind.

'Villains are inside. People could be hurt.' With that in mind, Greg moved without thinking.

He leapt.

As he crashed through the window of Brockton Bay Central, the combination of his velocity and the impact of his body on glass completely ripped his white dress shirt apart, exposing his rather sculpted upper body.

Greg landed on the marble floor of the bank with bent knees, spider-web cracks spreading from the point of impact.

"Stop, criminals! Or...huh?"

Almost immediately, Greg froze as he took in the sight in front of him.

Apparently, he was wrong. He wasn't the first hero here.

Bug Girl was here...and so was her team...except the pretty blonde...oh, and they brought their giant monster dog-things. Were they bigger? They looked kinda bigger.

Greg's eyes widened in surprise and he stepped forward. "Hey, guys! You're here! Did you already catch the bad guys?"

Bug Girl didn't say anything. In fact, she took a step back. Make that several steps.  
Her team didn't move a muscle. All of them just stared at Greg as if he had a second head.

"Guys, something up?"

No words.

Something was off here, but Greg wasn't sure what. He looked around and noticed something kinda weird.

A stack of several canvas bags were piled behind Grue. 'Okay, they confiscated the money.'

There was a massive swarm of insects in the shape of a circle in the center of the bank. 'Bug Girl brought her bugs, of course. Nothing weird there.'

Inside it was a large group of people, dozens probably, huddled on the floor and staring at him with weird looks on their faces. 'Maybe one of the bank robbers is in that crowd.'

One frizzy haired brunette girl was the odd one out, standing instead of crouching like everyone else. For some reason, she seemed oddly familiar.

'Oh, there's the blonde girl...Tattletale.' Tattletale was standing away from the group, just outside of the circle of bugs. She seemed to be smiling at him, the same smile his mother always had on her face when she was trying not to scream in frustration. For some odd reason, she had a gun in her hand...and was aiming it at the frizzy-haired girl...who was looking more and more familiar.

'...holy hell, that's Panacea...but why does Tattletale have a gun on Panacea? She's a hero...that seems...weird.'

For the second time since he entered the bank, Greg froze. This time, because he remembered something. Something Assault had mentioned on Monday night.

 _'Those aren't heroes, kid. They're a bunch of young small-time villains called The Undersiders...Ow, Puppy!'_

'Oh, fuck me sideways.'

Greg sighed slowly, his face drooping. "...you guys are the bad guys, aren't you?"

As he said that, Bitch seemed to come back to life, as she glanced between her dogs and him.

Tattletale's mouth dropped open and she screamed. "No!"

She was too late.

"KILL!," Bitch shouted, her voice harsh and guttural.

Her dogs ran at Greg, the three of them attacking him at once.

For an instant, Greg felt the icy grip of fear in his chest, locking up his muscles and shocking him into inaction...then it was gone.

His muscles tensed and his vision slowed down as Zirin rushed through his entire body in preparation for a fight. This was it. This was what he had powers for! Fights like these! He had a pleasant feeling that he was going to enjoy this.

Leaping into the air to meet the first dog beast, Greg cocked his fist back to deliver a concrete-shattering strike.

Then it all went to shit.

-

If there was someone in this world that Amy could say she personally hated, it would be Tattletale, that bitch.

It wasn't enough to single her out as a hero, announcing her identity to the rest of the bank. Those idiots even had the nerve to glare at her like it was her fault the bank was being robbed or that she couldn't save them. What did they want from her? Never mind that she had probably cured at least one of their relatives of cancer. No, she had to kick bad guy butt like Vicky.

Hell to the no! She was strictly touch based and support only. She couldn't even heal herself. What was she actually going to do against a whole team of villains? Bleed all over them? Pfft..fucking idiots.

Anyway, back to the bitch. Tattletale had then noticed the phone in her pocket and figured out she had called for help. Apparently, the bitch was actually psychic as she knew she had texted her sister. And if that wasn't enough, she knew her secrets...all three of them.

Amy hated Tattletale more than she thought possible. She had even considered running up to her and just giving her a heart attack with a single touch. They wouldn't kill her but she didn't. Instead, she sat there while Tattletale taunted her by hinting at her deepest, darkest secrets in public. She couldn't do anything and it infuriated her.

That was why, when the shirtless cape crashed through the bank window, she had relished the fearful look on Tattletale's face. Amy recognized the cape. Who wouldn't? The Mohawk on that boyish face was rather distinctive. The powerful not-cape who took down Lung. By the look of terror on Tattletale's face, she had met him as well.

It had been enough to put a smile on Amy's face. That smile only increased when Superior had addressed the Undersiders as friends.

"Hey, guys! You're here! Did you already catch the bad guys?"

That was her first clue that something delightful was going to happen.  
And not delightful in the good way, like lollipops and rainbows. Delightful in the best way, like revenge and pain.

Her second clue that things were about to go down was the way their new member, the one controlling the bugs, had started backing away.

The third and final clue was the anguished look on Tattletale's face just before she screamed. "No!"

"Kill!," screamed Hellhound.

All three of her monsters rushed Superior at once. One rushed from the front while two attacked from the sides.

He jumped at the one attacking from the front, a fist pulled back. I knew how much strength was in his muscles. This would be over quickly.

That's when things went wrong.

Superior suddenly spasmed violently, his arm cracking from the rapid, uncontrolled movement, and a look of pain crossed his face.

Panacea glanced at Regent and noticed him holding a hand out. 'Shit...'

The beast closest to him caught him in his mouth and closed it's massive jaws around his arm.

The scream that came from Superior was more rage than pain. His screams only increased when another creature bit down on his other arm. The third tore into his leg. All three of the monstrosities tugged at him, treating his body like a chew tow.

The sight and sound of muscles being ripped apart as the cape screamed was too much for most of the civilians. A few of them vomited. It didn't bother her, though. Fortunately for her...or unfortunately, depending on your line of thought, Panacea had seen much, much, much worse.

"Grue! Portal! How long?"

Panacea turned to look at Tattletale as she screamed at Grue, a mild note of panic in her tone.

"At least another ten minutes," responded Grue, his tone deep and powerful. "I had to carry all of us and the dogs. That took a lot out of me. We're going to have to run for it."

"SHIT!" "Fuck!" Both Tattletale and the bug girl cursed at the same time.

'Come on, Vicky. Where are you? Get here qui-' Amy's thought pattern was suddenly cut off as Regent suddenly spoke up.

"Tats, he's resisting!"

"He's what?!" the girl shrieked.

"It's like he can fight me off!" the scepter-wielding boy responded. "I can't hold him much longer."

The bug girl suddenly gasped in sudden shock. "Guys, the Wards are here!"

"WHAT!" Tattletale's scream was more a statement than a question. "Scion fucking damn it! How many?"

"All of them, except Shadow Stalker."

"Tattletale! You said we'd be fine!" Grue screamed, his tone ringing with barely controlled panic.

"I know what I said. I say a lot of things! Ninety-nine percent of the time, I'm right, okay!" Tattletale kneaded her temples roughly, almost as if she thought she could massage her brain into a breakthrough. "How much time do we have till he breaks out?"

Regent flinched **.** "...no time."

Amy glanced back at the monsters. The three of them were huddled around the boy, their teeth ripping and tearing his skin. She couldn't really understand the Undersiders' fear. Nothing seemed to have changed.

" **RAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"**

With a thunderous slam, the beasts were sent flying **through** the walls with a flash of red light.

'Oh my god! Oh my God! Oh my God!' He stood up slowly and as she caught sight of him, she felt something that she could only describe as her sister's fear aura on steroids. Now she could understand the Undersiders' fear. She could definitely understand it.

Amy found herself backing up and found that she wasn't alone in her fear. Several people around her were little more than gibbering wrecks and a few more were throwing up, possibly the same ones as before.

Part of his eye was missing, while the other was little more than a pit of red fire. Blood flowed freely down his face and chest while lacerations and bite marks all over his body clearly showed bone. His right pant leg was little more than tatters, showing how deeply one of the dog beasts had damaged his thigh with it's jaws.

Superior slowly turned his head to face the Undersiders. Bitch in particular, and his red eye seemed to flash. With a roar, he burst into a run, destroying tiles beneath him with his powerful strides.

Bitch and Grue, the two members of the Undersiders who seemed to be mostly unaffected by his Master effect, charged at the same time he moved. Grue stretched out a hand and shadowy tentacles burst from the sleeves of his long coat. Bitch ran at Superior, swinging at him with the massive growths on her arms.

Grue's tentacles wrapped around his arms, surprising the raging cape for an instant and giving Bitch the chance to get in close and punch him in the face, sending him skidding back and ruining the bank floor even more.

With another roar, he rushed forward again mindlessly. This time, bugs swarmed him, blinding him. Their stinging and biting only served to enrage him even more. He barreled through the wall of bugs in time for Grue's tentacles to reach him again.

Amy shuddered as she witnessed Superior's mouth open in a vicious, brutal grin and she suddenly realized that behind that rage, there was still a cunning mind. Superior side-stepped Grue's tendrils and pulled on them with all his force. The villain was sent hurtling towards Superior's waiting fist at the speed of a car.

Amy almost closed her eyes in expectation of the gruesome death that was bound to happen. She was a health professional, not a sadist. Just because she was used to injury and death didn't mean she liked to see it happen.

Superior's fist rocketed forward but thankfully for the sake of Grue's life, more tendrils emerged from his coat and wrapped themselves around his body, creating some sort of ebony shield.

As Superior's fist slammed into his shield, the black shield was sent rocketing upwards into the ceiling before bouncing back down and Grue emerged from it, dizzy but not too much worse for wear. Several tendrils coiled from his jacket and he used them as legs while hanging over ten feet in the air. Even more shadowy limbs wrapped around Tattletale, Regent and the bug girl, eliciting several girlish shrieks of surprise and a joke about tentacles that shouldn't be repeated, all of the above just from Regent.

"That's it. We're leaving!" Grue screamed.

"What about Bitch?" shouted the bug girl.

Bitch was busy engaging Superior in hand-to-hand combat. Apparently, only having one eye caused you to lack depth perception and misjudge distances. The girl was avoiding his wild swings and hammering the battered cape with brutal strikes, aiming for his open, bleeding wounds. A quick strike to his blind side, driving her overgrown fist into his empty eye socket, jump back as he flails wildly in pain, jump forward. She slammed her knee into his damaged tibia, eliciting a loud crack and a pained roar and she followed it up with an uppercut to his broken jaw, sending the red-eyed boy sprawling. She took a quick moment to dig into his ribs with a jab. As he howled in pain, Bitch quickly dodged to the side to avoid his lunge and jabbed his side again.

As she struck him once more in his broken ribs, she was suddenly pulled from behind by one of Grue's tendrils wrapped around her waist, eliciting a growl from the girl.

"Shut up, Bitch!"

Superior rushed at Grue only to be hit by dozens of tendrils that Grue sent flying with a sweep of his hand.

These tendrils were unconnected to Grue's body and wrapped around Superior's body tightly, preventing him from gathering any leverage. The raging cape fell to the floor, roaring all the while.

Grue scaled the walls

"What about the money?!"

"Fuck the money, Regent! We might still have to fight the Wards!"

"Come on! We risked our lives!" Regent said, his tone more whining than pleading.

"Fuck, fine! I have enough juice left for this anyway!" Grue grabbed the bags with a loose tendril and tossed them into his jacket and they dissapeared. "There! Happy now?" he asked sarcastically, exhaustion audible in his voice.

Regent nodded imperiously, trying to joke in the stressful moment. "Very."

Grue growled and another tendril appeared in front of him, forming an ovoid shield, to protect him and his team, most likely from gunfire.

"Let's do this!"

Looking like some kind of demented octopus, his tendrils propelled him out the doors of the bank. Amy simply stood in the same place she had been the entire fight.

After a few moment's hesitation, the hostages ran out of the bank. Amy almost face-palmed at their shortsightedness, all of them so eager to escape the bank that they would run into a cape fight outside. Sure enough, judging by the screams outside, most of them had realized their blunder.

On the floor, Superior had stopped struggling in the bonds that Grue had forced him into as a look of realization crossed his bloody face. With a burst of red light, he burst free from his bindings and jumped upwards.

He glanced around, a violent grimace on his face, as if searching for someone else to fight. As he slowly realized that Amy was the only one in the bank, his eye focused on her.

To her horror, he slowly began walking towards her.

'What does he want? What does he want? Why me? What does...wait...wow.'

Her horror slowly turned to fascination as she noticed the changes happening on Superior's body.

A red aura had appeared on his wounds and before her eyes, they began to heal up quicker than she would have imagined possible. His eye grew back in mere moments, the useless bit of flesh falling out of his ocular cavity and landing on the bank floor. With every single step he took, torn muscle, damaged bone and giant lacerations all over his body righted themselves in seconds.

By the time he had gotten within a few yards of her, she noticed that every single wound on his body had disappeared, returning him to exactly to the way he was when he first crashed through the bank window, in all his shirtless, muscled glory.

As that last thought passed through her mind, Amy felt her cheeks heat up and she looked away from his chest and stared up into his eyes...his beautiful, once again, blue eyes. 'Bad idea, Amy. Look away, look away now!' And look away, she did. Amy decided that the floor needed to be studied.

'This is definitely going to cost a lot to repair. Huh, is that a dollar coin? Cool. Eww...dried blood on my shoes...Oh, god. He's still just standing there.' Despite her best to ignore the shirtless teenage boy in front of her, Amy knew she couldn't do it forever. 'Might as well get it over with.' Raising her head slowly, Amy gave Superior an awkward smile and a weak wave. "Hey..."

He returned her smile and Amy found herself wincing. 'Scion, so fucking bright. Who the hell has teeth that white? What, do you use acid as your mouthwash?...Fuck, a Brute like you? You probably could.' Amy shook her head to get those thoughts away as he began to speak.

"Hey, Panacea, could you fill me in with what just happened?"

"What?"

"Yeah, I don't really remember much after those...things dog-piled me," he replied, smiling sheepishly. With one hand, he raised a single hand to pat his Mohawk down.

Amy couldn't help herself and she let out a giggle. A very girlish giggle. 'What the hell? I don't giggle like that. I'm not Vicky. Speaking of Vicky, where is-'

As if on cue, a loud scream interrupted Amy's train of thought.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

The blood drained from Amy's face as soon as she heard that familiar scream. Before she could even move, the boy in front of her was suddenly hit by a golden comet moving at about a fourth the speed of sound, leaving her the only occupant in Brockton Bay Central Bank.

Amy sighed.

'...Damnit, Vicky.'


	29. Complications 2-7B

**Complications 2.7B**

Greg was no stranger to hard hits. He really wasn't. He was a Brute, after all. He was designed to take hits. Or, so he thought.

His training with Evron had actually taught him a few things about taking hits...and fighting, in general.

Case in point, Evron had instilled in Greg a firm respect for evasive actions... albeit through many, many, **many** surprise attacks. He had done this to teach Greg what he felt was the most important lesson about fighting.

Pay attention to any and every opponent.

Or in the Boss's words, _'Look out or you're gonna die!'_

This most important of lessons was one Greg usually paid close attention to. It had served him well against Lung...for the most part and he believed that in any future fight, he would utilize it to the best of his ability.

But Greg wasn't perfect. He forgot things and he made mistakes. After all, he was only human...metaphorically speaking, of course.

Who could blame him, really? There was a pretty girl in front of him, the bad guys weren't there...anymore, at least, and he was confused as to exactly what had happened. He didn't remember anything after getting attacked, after all.

So, he asked her a question and then they talked a little bit and he made her laugh. The whole thing wasn't completely his fault. There were extenuating circumstances involved in the situation. Panacea's shirt was ripped and her bra was showing. I mean, he wasn't looking but...that had served as a tiny little bit of a distraction as well.

Regardless, how was he even supposed to know what was going to happen next?

He wasn't a psychic. Although, maybe if he had been paying more attention to his senses, he would have noticed an odd whistling noise that was associated with high speed objects flying through the air. Maybe he would have heard a furious scream from a bit farther away.

Maybe...but that was then.

This was now.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

Now could best be described as a blonde bombshell body-checking him at over two hundred miles an hour.

Glory Girl's shoulder struck him center mass, cracking at least two of his ribs and sending him flying out of the bank.

Luckily for him, he had flown through a rather large hole in the wall instead of crashing through the steel and marble structure of Brockton Bay Central.

Unluckily, Glory Girl had flown through that same hole and caught up to him in an instant.

The instant before her fist made contact, Greg mentally cursed the fact that he couldn't fly.

With a shrill roar, she let her fist fly and struck him in the face, creating a loud and audible crack.

Greg screamed as several teeth in his mouth were forcefully removed with the force of that blow and he was sent flying back even further.  
After nearly five seconds of continuous screaming, he forced his mouth closed and choked down his screams.

It hurt, yes, but then again Lung hit harder.

Still, getting hit in midair when you couldn't fly was rather different than fighting on the ground. For one, it was much harder to dodge.

It was also nearly impossible to control how you would land when you inevitably took a hit.

He had flown pretty far from the Bank, propelled a good distance by Glory Girl, and was deeper Downtown, most likely the East Side. As Greg began to fall to the ground, he could only thank Scion that there weren't too many civilians around.

There was, for some reason, an empty hot dog cart.

With a screech of crushed metal and the exploding hiss of boiling water, a small crater formed in the pavement from the powerful impact as Greg as his 160 pound body slammed into it with enough force to pulp a normal human.

As he lay on the ground, the smell of hot dogs and the foggy steam of the boiling water dazing him slightly, Greg took a moment to process his thoughts, the Zirin in his brain involuntarily enhancing his analytical processes.

His chest hurt (understatement), his ribs were probably cracked (understatement), he had obviously just gotten into a fight and judging from what he remembered, he probably lost (understatement), and...Oh, Glory Girl's here again.

Greg barely rolled out of the way in time as Glory Girl's foot landed in the exact place where he had previously been, cracking the asphalt even more.

Getting to his feet in less than a second, he faced the enraged Glory Girl with a closed-mouth smile on his face.

She stood in front of him like an enraged goddess, back-length blonde hair flowing in the wind. Her white-and-gold costume was spotless and she stood with all the confidence, or arrogance, of one who had nothing to fear.

Greg recognized that stance. He had seen it on Evron many times and most recently, he had seen it every time he looked in the mirror. 'She wants a fight, she's gonna get a fight.'

"Give up now and I won't break you," she said through her gritted teeth.

Greg's smile only increased at her words. 'That was such an obvious lie.'

He laughed at her, his derisive tone taken directly from his Uncle Max, perfectly designed to rile her up.

Glory Girl clenched her fists in anger, her face turning red as Greg continued to laugh.

Taking a step forward, she decided to shout her previous statement as if her increased volume would change his mind.

"I said, Give up now or I'll break you!", she repeated, her cape fluttering behind her.

Greg stopped his mocking laughter and simply stared at the young heroine with a scornful smile before changing his minf.

His smile then turned into a wide grin as he flashed his bloody, broken teeth at her.

"You hit like a bitch."

A stunned look crossed Victoria Dallon's face for a single second. A second was all Greg needed.

He shot towards her at over a hundred miles an hour. Faster than she expected. Faster than she could react to.

He wasn't going to waste this.

His fists lashed out with as much force as he could muster in his condition. The One-two Combo...a classic. A quick left to her face and a powerful strike to her chest that sent her flying back. Her body skidded on the pavement, skipping like a stone until her backwards motion was quickly halted as she found herself embedded

Ironically, the first time he had used this move was against a blonde as well. Albeit, nowhere near as powerful, but still. Deja vu.

Glory Girl peeled herself from the outline she had left on the wall and stumbled dizzily for a few moments. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were dusty and she looked like someone had told her to scrub her pores with a dirt-covered Brillo pad. She took a moment to before glaring murderously at Greg who stood over a hundred feet away, right next to the crumpled hot dog cart.

A devious thought crossed Greg's mind as an even more devious smile appeared on his face. See, Greg had been somewhat obnoxious before he had met Ev. Frankly, he was still obnoxious now, he just hadn't had any opportunities to express himself.

He wasn't just a motormouth for no reason. Greg loved to use his mouth for a good cause. That is, to annoy people. People who were jerks to him, anyway. Right now, Glory Girl was at the top of that list.

"Hey, Glory Girl! You hit me, I hit you! We're even stevens now, right?", he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Glory Girl didn't move a muscle. She didn't say a word.

'Wait for it...Wait for it...Wait...for...'

Glory Girl screamed shrilly before she launched herself at him at top speed.

To Greg, she was moving much slower, his blue eyes quickly flashing to a bloody scarlet as a jolt of energy rushed though his veins.

'This is gonna be good (understatement).' 


	30. Complications 2-7C

**Complications 2.7C**

The distance between the two of them vanished quickly as he and Glory Girl rushed at each other. On the outside, he was the picture of confidence, despite his somewhat bruised appearance, arms in position to deliver powerful strikes.

On the inside, however, he was fucking giddy. He was in a fight...and with another Brute again! Lung...Lung had been weird...and a bit disappointing. Sure, he was strong...yeah, but he didn't seem as strong as the stories about him said he was. He didn't seem like the Dragon of Japan, the villain that fought Leviathan one on one. Apparently, Lung needed even more time to get to that level of power. Maybe if Greg had realized that, he would have delayed a bit, stretched out the fight...but that was the past.

Glory Girl was the present. Alexandria Jr...The Glory of Brockton Bay...New Wave's Shining Star. She was almost as famous as Lung, and for good reason. Before ramping up, Lung's baseline was little more than a very fit human being, albeit one who stood almost seven feet tall. You could take him out with a metal bat or a pistol shot to the brain if you caught him unawares. Victoria Dallon was a completely different story. Her strength was incredible, 10 tons at last measure and durable enough to brush off a grenade. Her speed was no joke either, according to several posts on PHO, she was clocked at almost two hundred miles an hour in the air. With stats like that, she was a complete beast.

Best part about it, she was like this all the time. All he had to do was beat her and he would know where he stood. No wondering if she wasn't at her strongest like Lung. This would be an open and shut case of Brute vs Brute.

Glory Girl dashed at him at over twice the speed she had been moving at before, creating a slipstream in her wake and surprising Greg a bit.

A bit.

He grinned, dodging a wild swing from her and countering with a jab to her stomach that sent the heroine stumbling back. Capitalizing on her pain, he followed up that quick jab by launching a salvo of strikes all over her body.

His speed aiding him, his toned arms flailed like powerful pistons, repeatedly pounding the heroine's body like a speed bag. His strikes resounded from her body with loud booms, almost like thunder. Pulling his fist back, he threw another punch as fast as he could, directly into Glory Girl's ample chest.

An instant before his fist landed, Glory Girl's open palm caught it and her grip tightened, eliciting a crack and a choked scream from Greg. White hot pain surged through his wrist and fingers in an instant, disorienting him.

Glory Girl smiled at him and increased her grip on his fist, crushing his broken fingers even further while at the same time, her other hand gripped his shoulder just as tightly. Greg grunted in pain, struggling against Glory Girl with all his might.

'God, Scion, fuck all! She wasn't this strong before!' Greg thought to himself as he fought for dominance. Half of him was angry that he was losing, while the other half was excited to be in a fight...and the third half was excited...in another way. This was the first time Greg had been this close to a girl this hot and honestly, his head wasn't completely in the right place.

She noticed his wandering eyes as they began trailing downwards to her chest and screamed in righteous female anger as she realized what he was looking at.

"PERV!"

Distracted as he was, Greg was completely unprepared for Glory Girl's invulnerable forehead smashing into his rather durable nose with an incredible amount of force, and for the third time, another one of his body parts shattered as she struck him.

"Gah! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!"

Now his head was no longer the only thing that wasn't in the right place. He felt like a grenade had gone off right in his face, white hot pain centered directly on his definitely broken nose. Hot liquid gushed from his nostrls, sending him reeling and once more filling Greg's mouth with the coppery taste of his own lifeblood. Stumbling a bit, he tried to fight through the pain, a feat that was made a hundred times harder by Glory Girl continuing to squeeze his damaged hand and shoulder.

Disguising his pained groans as angry growls, Greg pushed back with all his might, attempting to force the buxom blonde away from him. Despite his broken hand, he actually seemed to be making some headway as she was slowly, but surely, forcing away the crazy blonde in front of him.

-

Victoria was angry. It was an emotion that she was familiar with, especially in brutal fights like thia, when people just wouldn't _stay down_ when she punched them. Confusion was one that came up less often, but she was definitely feeling it now. The blonde creep she had seen harassing her sister was battered to hell and back, bruised and bleeding, but even when she could feel the bones creaking in his hand, he was somehow pushing her back and away.'Was he...was he getting stronger? Fuck that!'

Narrowing her eyes, she tightened her grasp on his shoulder and was rewarded with another crack and a hiss of pain. Despite that, he only grit his teeth and continued to push, somehow ignoring the intense pain he must have been feeling. What would it take to put him down?

Letting go of his shoulder for a split second, she struck him in the nose again, this time with an elbow, forcing another grunt from him as blood spurted from his nostrils. Unceasing in her quest to make him hurt, she slammed the same elbow across his face, leaving him open for her follow-up attacks. A jab struck his jaw and less than a second later, a right cross impacted his battered ribcage. He stumbled back, but didn't fall, nose broken and gushing blood, completely unable to defend himself but for some sick reason, he was still smiling during every single moment of the fight, despite the brutal thrashing he was receiving.

Glory Girl was not one to waste an opportunity, especially when it came to a fight. Her fists came down in a combined hammer fist and he reacted, bringing up his fore-arm to block. She made sure he regretted that. His fore-arm shattered with a distinctive crack, and his face twisted into a grimace of pain. Glory Girl felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he staggered and she rushed forward, confidence brimming. Another hammerfist was swung into his chest like a bat, sending him rocketing back, unsteady on his feet.

Dashing forward, she slammed her fists into his chest repeatedly, copying the volley he had demonstrated on her before. His chest was slick with blood, all of it his, but her fists still found purchase on his body, driving him backwards and forcing grunts of pain from him with every single punch.

It wasn't as fast as his...or anywhere near as smooth...but it really didn't have to be. She was stronger. She was better. She was Glory Girl.

Pausing for a moment, she took in his damaged state. His face was a mess, swollen and bloody, his nose damaged beyond all recognition and his teeth broken and shattered. For a second, she felt kind of sad for him but that quickly dissapeared as she saw him smile once more. This sick fuck was a villain, a bank robber, and worst of all, HE WAS GOING TO HURT AMY!

Winding up her body to deliver every single bit of force she could muster, she let a powerful punch fly, hammering into his chest like a freight train. The asphalt directly underneath them cratered from the sheer force behind her strike, sending gravel and dust flying with a small shockwave of displaced air.

In other words...she hit him. **HARD.**

 **-**

Greg found himself flying once more, the immense strength behind Glory Girl's punch powerful to send him flying over rooftops and hurtling over half a mile to crash directly into the side of a Brockton Bay police car. The collision of his body into the steel frame of the vehicle didn't even faze him. Neither did the din of tearing and crumpling metal bother his sensitive ears. If anything, the impact was a comforting and welcome cushion compared to the diamond-hard fists of Glory Girl. He faintly heard the terror-filled screams of people that he could only conclude were civilians but he paid them no mind. He was more than a bit preoccupied with his own rather important issues at the moment.

Pain...brutal, agonizing pain that just wouldn't cease. Greg's face surged with that same white-hot pain, his right shoulder and left wrist both hung limply, completely shattered by Glory Girl's vise grip, his chest was still covered in his own blood, as well as many bruises and minuscule cuts.

In all honesty, he wanted to stand up and fight but his body...his body just wasn't listening. He wasn't exhausted. He was just too broken, his body too weak to keep fighting as it was. Something inside him raged at that thought. That shouldn't be! He shouldn't be losing like this! Lung didn't make him feel like this...this pathetic, this... **weak**. Glory Girl...she was strong. Definitely stronger than Lung had been that night. That shouldn't matter! He shouldn't be weak...he was strong, powerful. He was Kheran royalty...whatever the hell that actually meant. Anger made him stronger! Yes...that's what he needed. **ANGER!**

 **GET UP! GET ANGRY!**

Giving up was not an option!

'Stand...stand...get up! You can do it! Move!' he screamed to himself. He felt the familiar heat flowing through him and churning all his conflicting emotions into a simple-minded anger that was all he needed to fight. His rage was forced, weak, but it was working and he could already feel his body righting itself, albeit somewhat slowly. Still, his body refused to obey. Too much pain. He needed time. Time to focus, time to heal but time...time was something he didn't have.

He felt more than heard her touchdown. The ground cratered and shook around her as she landed with all the subtlety of an earthquake.

Greg opened his swollen, bleeding eyes to stare up at a viciously smirking Glory Girl.

Placing a bloody hand around his jaw, she pulled him up from his sitting position against the crumpled car door of the police sedan. As she held him up at her eye level, she glared directly into his eyes as if looking for something. When she apparently didn't find what she was searching for, she shook her head slowly.

"You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?", she began after a long pause.

Greg said nothing.

"I mean, really, what the hell? You and your stupid-ass team rob a bank and hold everyone hostage like a couple of grade-A scumbags! Then you tear up the bank like a bunch of shitheads for whatever fucking reason..."

'Wait...she thinks I'm with them...'

"Honestly, I wouldn't care too much about the other shit but I saw you. I saw you!," she shouted in his face, her expression distorted in pure rage. "What were you trying to do to Amy?!"

"Nrrsshing," he forced out through the grip Glory Girl had on his jaw.

"What?"

"Nrrrsshinng!"

His neck found itself with her other hand clamped around it, slowly and rather painfully limiting his airflow while the hand around his jaw was drawn back in a threatening fist.

"Don't fucking lie to me! You piece of shit, I saw you!", she growled in his face.

"Ah...dnt...knw...whaa...yu're...tlking...abou...," he managed to gasp out, his face red.

"I SAW YOU IN THE BANK!," Glory Girl screamed in his face, her grip on his neck tightening as she raised him higher with only one hand. He began to kick wildly as his airflow became weaker and weaker. "YOU HAD NO CLOTHES ON! HER SHIRT WAS RIPPED OPEN! I KNOW WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO FUCKING DO!"

The more she screamed, a golden aura seemed to appear around her body, brightening with every single syllable until it shined like a halo. Greg didn't even notice. He was much too focused on her actual words and the intensifying heat building in his body. The meaning behind her words smashed apart the pain-induced daze in his mind like a sledgehammer breaking through concrete. 'Did she...she just...she called me...' Heat rushed through his body and rage filled his mind, healing his most severe injuries, and he knew this was it. It was time.

Opening his mouth, he spat at her and a thick stream of blood and phlegm shot from his mouth directly into her eyes, immediately robbing her of sight.

"God, what the-?", she yelped out of shock rather than pain. Stumbling back, she let go of his neck and Greg reacted. Lashing out with a quick right cross, he aimed for her gut and instead met Glory Girl's toned forearm with a sound like thunder.

He winced slightly. Felt like punching fucking diamond.

Trying again with an even quicker jab, Glory Girl reacted to his speed, jumping back and launching a powerful kick that a Spartan would have been proud of.  
The kick glanced off his side as he dashed to the left, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the attack.

Lunging forward, he delivered a jab to her throat, causing her to gasp for a moment and immediately followed with an elbow into her face.

His elbow made contact and Greg's smile became positively vicious at the sound of Glory Girl's nose breaking and the spray of blood that followed.

"Hahahaha!"

Letting out a short gasp of excited laughter, he smashed another elbow into her nose if only to see more blood spill, and as she reeled back, he laughed once more. Bolstered by the fact that he could actually make her, the invincible Glory Girl, bleed, his mind accelerated and he _Moved._

Rushing forward, he thrust his a fist into her chest before dashing to the side and plunging an elbow into her ribs.

Glory Girl reacted to the pain and swung her fist at him in slow motion and he tilted his head to the side, dodging her strike with ease. His fist found itself impacting her cheek and blood flew from her mouth. He rushed her before she could gather a defense, blitzing back and forth, and striking everywhere she left vulnerable. Kick, jab, right cross, left cross, right hook, knee, uppercut, headbutt, headbutt, **HEADBUTT!**

With every single hit he landed, her golden aura flared and faded just the slightest bit and she seemed to be struggling. He _moved_ again, slamming a knee into her gut and she doubled over, groaning in pain. Grabbing her by the hair, he smashed her face into the crumpled police car, ignoring her pained screams. For a moment, he contemplated stabbing her with his blades or using his blasts. He quickly banished the thought. He didn't want to kill her. She was a hero, after all, albeit a stupid, crazy one.

Other than that, Greg was beyond caring. His mind had been all too focused on pain a short while ago. It didn't matter how much she screamed, how much she begged or pleaded. **It didn't matter.** Right now, he was focused on **winning**. She thought she could dominate him, crush him like an ant, make him feel **weak!** **She was wrong.**

Face bleeding and covered with cuts, Glory Girl screamed in anger and pain, her fists flailing wildly, trying to hit anything. Evading her wild swings with some difficulty, he caught her by the arm and gave it a sharp pull. Her eyes suddenly widened and Greg heard a sharp pop as Glory Girl's shoulder joint was quickly dislocated. Another powerful pull sent her flying over his shoulder in a textbook judo throw and she hurtled through the air.

He watched her flail as she screamed, pain robbing her mind of the knowledge that she could fly and he ran after her, Zirin surging through his body, and forced himself to keep pace with Glory Girl as she careened through the air. She began to descend quickly, flipping head over heels as she did, and Greg continued running, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Two hundred feet...one hundred and fifty, one hundred eighty...one hundred fifty...one hundred...Now!

Time slowed for Greg and he hissed in pain as his right arm burned intensely as he pushed his energy into it, all the heat in his body centering in his fist. Veins bulged, stretched to their limit, and his fist was surrounded with an aura that was as red as his eyes. Glory Girl flipped over once more and as she finally caught sight of him, it was already too late.

Greg shot upwards into the air, glowing fist already pulled back, his exultant smile widening as he noticed Glory Girl's eyes widen in shock as he appeared in front of her. Her limbs flailed wildly as she locked eyes with him, fully aware of what would happen next.

The instant before his fist reached her seemed to extend forever as the both of them stared into each other's eyes. One was blue and filled with fear, the other a bright pupil-less scarlet that exuded excitement. The moment lasted for an eternity on it's own.

Then his fist exploded in a flash of red light.

Glory Girl rocketed towards the ground, plowing through the asphalt and blasting through several parked cars as her aura flared wildly. She finally stopped when she slammed into another police car, unconscious and bleeding, her costume torn to shreds.

Greg shot upwards hundreds of feet in the air with the force of the explosion propelling him. He had won. At least, he was pretty sure he had. That was a long, hard fight and he wasn't sure what to think. Instead, he simply watched his surroundings as he continued his upwards journey.

'Everything's so beautiful from up here. So many blues, clouds so thick, sun so bright. God, I really wish I could fly...hmm, Glory Girl must love flying. I should really talk to her later...ask her how she liked the fight. Hope I performed okay. Wonder if she'll want to do this again."

After a few seconds of psuedo-flight, Greg found himself slowing down and he realized, with a wince, that he had reached the highest point of his flight. He began to drop, and he closed his tired eyes and let himself fall.

Five seconds later, he felt the crash in every bone in his body. The sound of screeching metal, police sirens and the loud shouts of several voices served as a wake-up call for Greg and he opened his eyes. Rolling over onto his side, he noticed the initials P.R.T on the crumpled top of the car he lay on. 'I really hope I don't get in trouble for this.'

Despite the beating he had received, he didn't feel all that bad. His nose was definitely broken, he felt like he couldn't breathe, he was completely exhausted and there was this odd, painful itching in his right arm. Other than that, though, he felt fine. Why shouldn't he? He had destroyed Lung and he had just beaten Glory Girl. He, little Greg Veder, had beaten the best this city had to offer. He was the **toughest,** the _fastest_ **,** the **STRONGEST** cape in all of Brockton Bay. He was **UNSTOPPABLE!** No one could touch him! NO ONE, NO ONE!

Greg raised his right hand in the air and pumped his fist, only to be splashed in the face with blood.

'What the...'

His hand was little more than a stump, bone sticking out from his wrist where his palm should be...his right hand...his favorite hand.

'Huh, okay. Hand's gone...I can deal with that. I heal, right?' Greg thought to himself, nodding his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. I can heal from this. Yes, I can. I can. I...I...I can do this. Can you heal what isn't there?"

Sitting up on the destroyed husk of the PRT vehicle he had landed on, mind stressed a bit from seeing his hand gone, Greg threw his head back and laughed wildly.

"Superior, stand down!"

Pausing his laughter, Greg looked to his side, hysteric laughter and manic smile both slowly fading as he took in the sight in front of him.

The Brockton Bay Wards, minus Shadow Stalker, stood in formation below him, ready to fight. For some odd reason, they all seemed tired and somewhat beaten up, almost as if they had just gotten into a big fight.

Aegis stepped forward out of formation and shouted once more.

"I repeat, Superior, stand down!"

'Do they want to fight?' Greg thought to himself, his heart rate speeding up again at the thought of fighting a knockout brawl with Aegis. Glory Girl was invincible 'Hah! Not anymore!' but Aegis...he was implacable. 'NO!' Greg shook the thought out of his mind. He couldn't do that. Aegis was a hero and he hadn't tried to start a fight... **yet.**

"Okay, I realize this kinda looks bad, with the smashed up street and this car," Greg began, gesturing downwards to the crumpled PRT van he sat on top off,"...but I can explain...See, it's like this..."

He stood up on top of the van and turned his entire body around to face the Wards. As if on cue, they all suddenly groaned and stepped back, placing their hands over their masks.

Glancing at each of the Wards in turn, he noticed most of them doing their best to avert their eyes, the only exceptions being Vista, who appeared to be peeking through her fingers.

"What's wrong? Something wrong or so _-...OH..."_

A sudden sensation of cold air to his lower body brought to his attention that he was no longer wearing any clothes at all. The explosion must have eviscerated the already ripped slacks he had been wearing, along with his boxers. 'Huh, I guess Alexandria brand boxers aren't that durable after all.'

Glancing back at the Wards, he realized that they had been getting an eyeful of his...junk. Blushing deeply, Greg placed his right hand in front of his groin and the other hand behind him.

When the Wards still made no attempt to look at him, Greg realized that he had been using his non-existent hand to block their view.

Raising his bleeding wrist to his face, Gregory snickered. "Oh, yeah...hehehehe...I don't have that anymore. This is kind of funny, actually...No hand...hehehe...naked in public and covered in blood, in front of heroes and...hehehehehe...a little girl...Hehehehehehehehehe..."

With a soft giggle, Gregory Veder's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out, naked and bloody.


	31. Complications 2-8A

**Complications 2.8A**

'Fucking today. Why the fuck did they have to do this? I had shit to do today.' Sophia Hess thought to herself, walking through the doors of the PRT secure meeting room in full costume. The room itself was well lit, with white walls, a large white conference table and a large white screen at the front of the room. All this bright light and white decor made Sophia's skin crawl. Frankly, she preferred the dark.

Glancing around the meeting room as she walked in, she noticed that nobody seemed to be paying her much attention...which was odd. Her teammates never liked her attitude but they had gotten used to her behavior in the nine months she had spent as a Ward so they didn't spare her a second glance.

The Protectorate members were an entirely different story. Most of them usually looked at her with a little bit of suspicion every time she entered a room. Well, except for Assault, but he was usually too busy making stupid jokes and acting like a jackass.

The jackass in question was busy balancing a pencil on his finger while Battery, the uppity bitch, kept shooting him glares. Velocity was twitching in his chair like a five-year old and generally acting like he had just mainlined espresso while Triumph and Dauntless seemed to be practicing a new way to bro-fist. Miss Militia even managed to look bored even though all Sophia could see was her eyes. The Wards were the only ones who managed to look at least a little bit serious...which was out of character for most of them.

Despite the nonchalant behavior of the Protectorate members, the fat Pig's glare seemed to be more heated than usual as she watched Sophia enter the conference room. Knowing Piggot, she was probably pissed over some little shit and was waiting for someone to mess up so that she could yell at them, not that the fat-ass needed a reason to scream her head off. Besides, It wasn't her fault she was late for this stupid meeting. Winslow was pretty fucking far from the PRT HQ.  
Besides, what the hell was so important that they had to interrupt her free time to come to some stupid meeting, anyway? From what she had heard, the bank got robbed and a street got fucked up by two Brutes. What was the big deal?

"Shadow Stalker, reporting in," she said, dropping herself into an empty seat next to Vista, who was currently trying to clear gravel from her blond bird's nest of hair. Noticing her normally prissy teammate's disheveled appearance, she gave her other Wards a closer look and noticed that all of them looked somewhat roughed up, like they had gotten their asses kicked. Aegis himself looked like he had gotten into a fight with a pack of angry dogs or something. 'Holy hell, what the fuck happened today?'

Piggot glared at her as she sat down, a look that Sophia was intimately familiar with before fixing her gaze at the man sitting to her left. "Where the hell is Armsmaster? I thought I said I wanted everyone present," she asked, her voice little more than a growl.

Rennick, Piggot's bald bitch, stood up, quickly looking around with the same weak-ass expression he always had on his face. Sophia scowled at him from underneath her mask. She hated weakness and Rennick, with his constant sweating and weak lungs, practically screamed 'pathetic'.

"Director, Armsmaster has...ahem...refused to exit his laboratory," Rennick said, clearing his throat intermittently.

Piggot narrowed her eyes at Rennick. "Refused? You actually spoke to him?

"Well...uh, not exactly, his doors are locked from the inside...and soundproof but...I was able to contact Dragon," the man replied, visibly sweating from the piercing glare Piggot was giving him, "and from what she told me, Armsmaster is busy Tinkering. It''s, uh, most likely a Tinker trance, according to her."

"A Tinker trance? For the better part of a week?"

"...Possibly?" Rennick answered, sounding unsure himself.

'What is he even doing here?' Sophia thought to herself, shaking her head slowly. Someone as worthless as Rennick shouldn't be in charge of capes at all. 'Fucking prey.'  
Sophia wasn't surprised that Dragon knew more about Armsmaster's condition than anyone else on the Rig. From what she had heard Kid Win say, Dragon and Armsmaster spent most of their spare time talking to each other. Vista even thought that the two were secretly dating. Sophia knew better than that, though. Armsmaster's head was too far up his own ass to even notice any female that liked him. In fact, she doubted Armsmaster even cared about sex. The Tinker would probably remove his own dick if he thought it'd make his tech better.

"Fine, I'll deal with that later. Let's just get this over with. Run the projector," Piggot said with a sigh, turning away from the sweaty, bald man.  
Rennick walked to the front of the room, letting out a deep breath and wiping his sweaty brow with his the sleeve of his suit. Sophia rolled her eyes at the man's weakness and turned to face the front of the room. As the lights dimmed, Sophia felt herself relaxing, no longer feeling uncomfortable in the too bright room. The man pulled out a pointer stick from his jacket pocket and placed it on the blank screen.

A moment later, an image of several masked faces appeared on the screen. Sophia easily recognized them. She'd been hunting one of them for a while now, after all..  
Clearing his throat, Rennick began to speak. "At approximately 1:30 pm, the Undersiders, performed a robbery at Brockton Bay Central Bank. Using their newest member, an insect-controlling Master, they were able to hold everyone inside the bank hostage. Among those hostages was Panacea of New Wave."

Sophia's eyes widened at that. From what she knew of the Undersiders, they were strictly small-time, sticking to stealing from other villains for the most part. To hold Panacea hostage, that would put them under a spotlight and get them on a lot of people's shit list. The Protectorate and New Wave would definitely be gunning for them a lot harder, that was certain. In fact, some of the Protectorate members began to murmur at that, various expressions of disapproval on what was visible of their faces. Going after Panacea was just not done.

Clockblocker shook his head solemnly. "Nobody fucks with the White Mage," he said, unable to prevent a chuckle from spilling out.  
His laughter petered off quickly as Piggot, Battery and Vista simultaneously aimed glares at him. The intimidating effect from their combined stares was lessened by the fact that Assault, Triumph and Dauntless were doing their best not to laugh at the Ward's joke.

'Bunch of fucking idiots,' Shadow Stalker thought to herself.

"For a better understanding of the proceedings, I believe it'd be best to watch the security footage," Rennick said, pointer stick still on the screen.

The room grew quiet and the murmuring came to a stop as the screen began to display security camera footage. Shadow Stalker's eyes widened as a swarm of bugs appeared from the darkness that could only be Grue's and judging by the gasps of a few of the Protectorate members, they were more than a bit surprised as well. Her surprise only increased when Grue created what looked like tentacles from inside his jacket, using them to carry bags of money.

'Shit, Mover and Shaker on top of his shit from before? That fucker's gonna be impossible to take down now.'

After nearly ten minutes of play, the video finally paused when Tattletale held a gun to Panacea, forcing the healing cape to stand up at gunpoint.

"It has been seen that both Grue and Hellhound displayed abilities that we previously did not have on file. Grue appeared to have the ability to teleport and create tendrils from shadows while Hellhound was able to utilize the armor that she usually creates on her dogs as offensive tools for herself," continued Rennick. "The two of them do not seem like the types who would have limited themselves in fights. So far, all conclusions point to a second trigger."

Piggot sighed, closing her eyes. Used to seeing in dim light, Sophia was easily able to pick out an unhealthy looking throbbing vein that pulsed on Piggot's forehead. With one hand, she kneaded her forehead while she waved for Rennick to continue with the other.

"At this point in the hostage situation, Tattletale appeared to have recognized Panacea and from the reports given by the hostages, had been needling her with questions and uncomfortable statements while Grue had been collecting bags of money from the vault using his tendrils. This next part of the video is a little more confusing."  
The video continued to play and Sophia watched in confusion as a shirtless guy with a Mohawk burst through one of the banks' large glass windows, cracking the marble floor on impact. That confusion quickly turned to shock as she saw his face. 'The fuck!...is...is that Veder?...wow, he's fucking cut...'

Since the fight against that E88 dickhead on Monday, Sophia had heard a lot of rumors concerning Greg Veder. In fact, the school had gone crazy with them. Some people said that Greg had lost it and ran away after triggering in public. Others had mentioned that Greg might not even be a parahuman at all and he had simply been working out for months. There had been some support for that by people who had claimed to see the nerd running all over the Docks.

The most popular rumor was that Greg was a crazy strong Brute and had actually been the one to mutilate Lung. Even Madison seemed to be in support of that rumor, even going as far as to say that there was a pic of him on PHO. Although, for some reason, the pic hadn't been there when Madison had tried to show her. Emma had been really curious about the topic, even going as far as to talk to Greg's friend about it. Sophia wasn't really sure what to think about the issue. She knew Greg was a cape and that he had definitely changed. The look on his face when he had knocked out Mal was just too...sadistic...for him to be the same pussy he had been before. After the fight, he had changed again. Greg had reeked of fear and shame as everyone had stared at him before quickly shifting to anger again as he had gotten impatient. His posture hadn't really come off as a predator as he stomped out of the school. Instead, to her mind, it screamed 'Dangerous.'

Clockblocker had mentioned a rookie cape named Superior had been the one to take down Lung, so she hadn't even entertained the thought of Greg doing it. From the look she had seen on his face, he wanted nothing more than to kill Mal. If Greg had been strong enough to almost kill Lung, he wouldn't have had the self control to hold back from turning the Nazi into a stain on the wall.

The video continued, displaying Greg nearly getting ripped apart by the three giant monsters Bitch controlled. Several concerned murmurs were heard from a few PRT agents and some of the Protectorate. Piggot simply glared at the video as if she could light it on fire with the force of her glare alone. Tattletale had started acting weirdly and suddenly, the three monsters were launched through the bank walls in a flash of red light. As Greg stood up, the wounds on his body could be clearly seen and there were several gasps around the table and a squeak from Vista. His entire body was covered in claw and bite marks. His right arm was almost completely torn off and the same thing could be said for his left leg while one of his eyes were completely gone and the other eye shone with a red glow. Unlike the others, Sophia made no sound, only gaping at the video. Despite his injuries, Greg didn't even look bothered. He just looked ready to kill.

As the fight progressed, he knocked away Grue, causing the dark villain to display more of his new abilities by creating a force field and essentially becoming a giant octopus with his tendrils. Bitch continued to attack Greg, the dog user's grotesque fists smashing into the damaged cape. The tape paused as Grue, his team in tow, tried to escape through the front doors after tying up Greg.

"The blonde Brute on screen is known as Superior. Despite the fact that his civilian identity is essentially public knowledge to anyone with a search engine, we will be following protocol by not mentioning his civilian identity during an official meeting as he is considered a hero. He is also the cape who, on Monday night, defeated Lung by inducing severe head trauma and...uhhhh...gouging out the villain's eyes...on his first outing," continued Rennick, turning somewhat green at the mention of Lung's injuries. "Official ratings for Superior have him as a Brute 7, Mover 4, Master 2, and Blaster 4. As you can tell, he is quite a powerhouse. Hostage reports also describe him as somewhat confused when he saw the Undersiders as he seemed to think they were heroes." Sophia noticed Clockblocker snickering at this while Assault shook his head and Battery had a smug look on her face.

"Hellhound was the first to attack, commanding her dogs to kill him. Reports mention that Regent was assisting the dogs in keeping Superior down and that he quickly lost control of him. Despite severe injuries, Superior rushed the Undersiders in a berserk rage and was still able to fight Grue and Bitch, frightening their leader to the point that he called for a retreat. Superior was then restrained by Grue's tendrils and the Undersiders exited the bank where they were met by the Wards...not including Shadow Stalker. Continue the video."

'Not including Shadow Stalker...assholes,' thought Sophia, fuming to herself. 'What's so hard about giving a bitch a call? I'd have stopped the Undersiders by myself if I had to.'

Sophia pulled herself out of her own head as the video continued, showing Superior still struggling on the ground, wrapped in Grue's tendrils. All the bugs in the bank dissapeared into the walls and the hostages ran out a few moments later, leaving only one frizzy haired girl left in the bank.  
'Panacea.'

In a burst of red light, Greg ripped apart the bindings and began to walk toward Panacea and for some fucking reason, the dumb bitch just stood there. 'What the fuck? You just stand there and let a cape who just went crazy walk towards you. This is more than stupid. That's some ridiculous horror movie bullshit.'

The entire room hushed as all of Greg's injuries healed as he walked towards Panacea and they began to talk, but due to the bank's cameras not being equipped with sound the conversation was not captured. Then, in a blur, Greg dissapeared from the camera.

"From what Panacea told us, Superior was unable to remember what happened after the dogs attacked him leading us to believe that when he enters that berserk rage, he experiences short-term memory loss as a result. She also informed us that Glory Girl was the reason for Superior's sudden disappearance from the bank, as she believed Panacea was in danger and that Superior was one of the villains," began Rennick, pausing for a coughing fit.  
'Glory Girl, that stuck up Brute bitch. Fucking skank with that stupid-ass tiara. Who wears a fucking tiara into a fight? A fucking airhead, that's who! I should shove that tiara up her bleached white asshole.'

Shadow Stalker was not a big fan of New Wave, mostly due to the fact that they were even more PR conscious than the Protectorate, and she especially hated Glory Girl. Early on, she had actually liked the blonde's behavior when it came to criminals. She wasn't like the other pussies and didn't care about not hurting them too bad. It didn't take too long for her to realize that Glory Girl was just another self-obsessed bitch.

"We were able to recover footage from street cameras to better understand the situation. Some of the altercation between the two is missing but we do have the majority of it."

As the video played again, Sophia watched with an open mouth. The entire thing was a blur of motion. Greg's fists were nearly invisible to the camera as he hit Glory Girl. When she finally got the upper hand, Glory Girl seemed stronger than ever, smashing her fists into Greg and really kicking the shit out of him. Then the footage switched again and the tables turned.  
Greg became a whirlwind of motion, moving so fast that he seemed to disappear from the camera at certain points. He fought brutally, a crazy smile on his face as he attacked Glory Girl with even more eagerness she had attacked him with. Nearly everyone in the room flinched as he grabbed her by the hair and smashed her face into the side of a destroyed BBPD vehicle. Underneath her mask, Sophia simply smiled as the video continued, enjoying the brutal beatdown for several reasons. Piggot just continued glaring at the video as she had since the screen turned on. The video cut off as the two dissapeared from the frame.

A few seconds later, an image appeared on the screen and Shadow Stalker had to force herself not to let out a laugh at what she saw. Glory Girl, bloody, beaten and bruised, embedded into the side of a crushed police car. Her costume was ripped in several places and the stupid tiara was nowhere to be found. 'Maybe he shoved it up her ass,' thought Sophia, laughing to herself.

The next image was of Greg lying on the top of a PRT van, naked and bloody. She almost gasped as she caught sight of his missing hand, not even paying attention to his naked body...okay, she paid a little attention.

Rennick coughed again, a weak, wheezing cough that made him sound like a leaking balloon. "...Excuse me. From what we have learned, Superior's hand was removed in an explosion we believe to have been caused by one of his blasts. People reported seeing a large flash of red light in the sky shortly before he landed on the PRT van. Information provided by the Wards describes Superior as being somewhat unhinged as he landed, laughing hysterically once he saw his missing hand and passing out upon becoming aware of his state of undress. Attempts were ma-"

"Wait a second" interrupted Battery. "That kid caused a lot of property damage trying to do our job. The bank, those streets, the police cars, the PRT van...that's a lot of collateral damage. With all that he's done, shouldn't he at least be in the Wards? For his own good, of course," she added, as an afterthought.

Piggot turned to glance at her, an angry look still etched on her face. "Before this meeting, I was visited by Superior's lawyer, a Mr. Quinn Calle. Superior is currently the sponsored cape of MedHall Pharmaceuticals and recently accepted a binding five-year contract. Any attempts to get our hands on him will be met with legal force and if we went to court, the proceedings would not be in our favor."

Battery stood up quickly, her lips turning down into an angry scowl. "So we're just going to let all that damage go? Who's going to pay for all of that? How much would all of it cost anyway?"

"To answer your last question, almost three million in property damage. Mr. Calle informed me that any and all damage that occurs due to Superior's antics will be covered by the policy he currently has with Fortress Insurance," Piggot replied, tone hard. It was clear to everyone in the room that the Pig was not happy that Superior wasn't a Ward and thus, out of her control.

Triumph folded his arms and shook his head. "I think Battery's right. The kid's a menace and he's obviously not right in the head. We all saw the video. He was laughing his head off while smashing Glory Girl's face in. We can't just let him go. What if he does something like this again?"

"Eh, you sure about that, bro?" replied Assault. "It seems like the Undersiders and Glory Girl were the ones really causing the damage. Superior was just reacting to it and I don't really think he should be punished for that."

"We're not even talking about punishment here," Battery said, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. "Look at the damage he caused. Every time he's been in a fight, this has happened. Lung, almost a third of the Docks ruined. The Undersiders, destroyed the interior of the bank. Glory Girl, ruined two streets in the middle of Downtown, destroyed two police cars and a PRT van. He needs the Wards for his own good. He needs to get training."

Miss Militia decided to speak up. "Battery raises a good point. Despite the fact that his actions were understandable, he has displayed an eagerness for brutality and violence during his fights that are...unbecoming of a hero. Considering that he is most likely the strongest Brute in Brockton Bay, we have to do our best to get him some training. If we really can't get him to join the Wards, then we try and convince him to join the Wards as a provisional member, training with them and joining them on patrols."

Various murmurs of assent arose around the table from all the Protectorate members. Sophia loved the idea. Greg might actually be fun to hang around if his attitude in a fight was any inclination. Although, from the grimaces on Aegis's, Gallant's and Kid Win's faces, they didn't really seem to be in support of the idea. Vista seemed to be smiling, though. Sophia couldn't tell if Clockblocker was happy or not, full face mask and everything.

"Actually, there's something that's been kinda bothering me about this since I met the kid," Assault added. "I've met lots of Brutes before. The ones as strong as he is, they tend to have issues with their strength and learning how to fight with their new powers. Superior had none of that. His punches weren't clumsy and his movements weren't awkward. Compared to him, Glory Girl was fighting like an amateur. Apart from Aegis, she's never fought someone who could take her hits."

Assault's words were met with a few confused looks and silence from the entire room as they tried to understand what he was getting at.  
Velocity spoke up first, impatience not letting him stay quiet. "And? What's the point?"

"Listen, even when he was in the Rig on Monday, he seemed to have perfect control of his strength. He didn't even dent the bed and he's supposed to be a new trigger. Someone's definitely trained him. I'm not saying this is true...but I'm pretty sure there's another high-level Brute in Brockton Bay," concluded Assault.

The entire room was silent as they processed Assault's words. Piggot's glare became murderous and she clenched her fists on the table, alerting Sophia to the fact that something was definitely wrong with the Pig.

"...Deputy Rennick and I have to speak to Superior's lawyer and his mother...concerning several other matters that were addressed today. All of you," Piggot said, turning to the Wards, "I expect mission reports on the Undersiders and the details of their new abilities. However, you have till tomorrow to complete them. Superior is in the MedBay getting treatment form Panacea. I expect you to do your best to convince him to accept the offer to become a provisional member. See if you can get him to agree to testing too. Consider this meeting adjourned."

With that, the meeting was over and the lights returned to full brightness, annoying Shadow Stalker again but she didn't pay it much attention.  
Walking out of the conference room, she ignored Aegis calling her name and hurried out as quickly as possible. She had her mind set on something else.

Greg Veder had really changed. No, she couldn't call him Greg anymore. He was Superior now and he had shown exactly why he deserved his name.

An Empire fucker made him angry, Superior kicked his ass.

Lung got in his way, he ripped the fucker's eyes out.

Glory Girl tried to fuck with him, the bitch got her ass beat.

Superior had shown that he was at the top of the food chain in Brockton Bay and he didn't take shit from anyone. He was a real man and she couldn't wait for him to join their team. Sophia had been looking for a good guy and for a while she hadn't thought she would ever find one. Gallant and Aegis had the muscles and square jaws that made other girls her age have to change their panties but they did nothing for her. She really didn't give a shit about looks for the most part. She wasn't shallow, after all. No, she just had standards. Superior was tough, he was brutal and best of all, he was a cape.

Shadow Stalker nearly ran down the hallway, sliding into a just opened elevator, shoving aside some lab-coat wearing nerd who had been waiting for the elevator.

"Hey, what the hell do you..."

The nerd's complaints trailed off as he took a careful look at Sophia and realized exactly who he had just been yelling at. Sophia slowly turned to stare at him, her dark, intimidating mask doing most of the work for her.

The guy slowly took a few steps back, his eyes never leaving her. "It's fine...I'll just take...uh...the stairs."

Shadow Stalker nodded and he nodded back, a cautious expression on his face. Smirking underneath her mask, Sophia pressed the elevator button that lead to the MedBay and the tech walked away, frowning. The doors closed and Sophia's smirk turned into an eager smile as she thought of how today would go, all thoughts of her previous plans gone from her mind.

She didn't know how she was going to do it but she would.

Superior was going to be hers.

PRT MedBay

"Owwwwww!" whined Vicky, her voice carrying through the large hospital room. She lay in a bed, her costume shredded to the point that she wore little more than a crop top and hot pants.

"...stop whining."

"But it huuuuuuuurts. Can't you hurry up?"

Amy Dallon sat next to her sister's bed, a visitor's badge around her neck and an annoyed grimace on her face as she listened to her sister whine again as she tapped away at her phone. "Stop complaining. I already healed all your serious injuries. You're just going to have to live with some bumps and bruises for a while."

"Really, Ames? I thought you were my sister. Come on, don't you love me?" she said with a pout. Despite the beating she had received turning her normally flawless hair into a scattered mess, it still somehow managed to make a perfect golden halo around her face. It would have been much too cute for Amy to handle if Vicky hadn't immediately started whining again due to the cut on her lip. Man, she really wasn't used to pain.

Amy sighed and turned to her sister. "Here, let me help you out a little bit." Brushing her fingers against Vicky's palm, the bruises and minor cuts dissapeared from her face, leaving only clear skin.

"Oh, that feels better...ow!" Victoria sighed in relief but quickly winced again as the bruises on the rest of her body made their presence known. "Why can't you just do the rest too?"

"You talked to Mom on the phone. You know why," Amy replied with a roll of her eyes.

Vicky glanced at her with an awkward expression on her face. "No, no, I don't. I kinda tune Mom out whenever she gets angry."

"Oh...of course **you** would...Mom said that she wants you to suffer a bit to learn a lesson because, and I quote," Amy screwed her face up to make the vaguely dissatisfied expression that Carol Dallon seemed to use as her calling card, "'If Vicky doesn't know better than to attack another hero for no good reason, then she can deal with some bruises.'"

"No good reason?", Vicky said with a huff, "I thought that guy was gonna try and ra...hurt you. That's a good reason if I ever heard one."

'Obviously, Mom doesn't think so,' thought Amy.

Amy gave her sister a weak smile and shook her head. "Yeah, but we're New Wave, you know. We have to be a good example for Brockton Bay. You beating up on a rookie cape is not exactly showing a good example."

Vicky frowned, folding her arms and pushing up her ample chest. The action combined with Vicky's current torn and scanty attire sent Amy's mind in several directions...several rather inappropriate directions. Her eyes moved away from Victoria's face down to her chest and from there, even further downward before shooting back up to her torso. Right in the center of Vicky's chest was a tear that seemed to increase a bit more with every single breath she took.

'In...out...In...out...just...a...little...bit...m-'

" **AMY!** "

"Wha-huh-who!...yeah?" Suddenly jolted from her raunchy daydreams, Amy hurriedly looked around with an intense blush on her face, her own chest heaving.

Victoria looked at Amy carefully, worry on her face. "You okay, Ames? You kinda spaced out."

Nodding hurriedly, Amy made sure her eyes stayed firmly on her sister's face. "Yeah, yeah, yeah...just a little bit tired."

Vicky tilted her head, raising an eyebrow at her sister. "You sure? 'Cause I think you might have a little bump on your head."

Amy raised a hand to her left temple and carefully touched the raised skin there, hissing a little at the stinging pain. "Yeah, I got hit by some debris in the bank fight. I'm fine, though. What were you saying again?"

Vicky still looked somewhat concerned but she continued. "If you say so...I was saying that it wasn't really my fault. That other guy Superior was pretty crazy. Asshole was smiling and laughing the entire fight. Smashed my face into a cop car. I mean, that's fucked up, right?"

Amy shook her head slowly. "I don't think he's really crazy. In the bank, when he got really hurt, he kinda went a little berserk.  
That's probably how his power deals with too much pain."

"Whatever. At least the guy knows how to throw a punch," Vicky replied, rubbing her jaw. "Kinda weird, really. He hit so hard it was like I could feel some of those hits through my forcefield..." She paused, glancing at her bruised arms. "Actually, I think..."

"Vicky?", Amy asked cautiously.

Her sister's eyes were distant, almost as if she wasn't looking at her hands as much as she was looking through them and she spoke in a low tone. "It's just...I don't know what...mayb-"  
Vicky cut herself off and both her and Amy looked up as someone knocked on the door of the room. "Come in," answered Amy.

The door opened and a nurse walked in, a chart in one hand.

"Hello, Panacea, Glory Girl," said the nurse, a slight smile on her face. "Sorry to bother you but...umm..."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Is there something wrong?"

The nurse shook her head. "No, it's just that the patient with the amputated wrist, a...," the nurse paused again, glancing at the chart she carried, "Superior, is ready if you're available. He's right across the hall." Smiling again, she closed the door behind her.

Amy found herself blinking in surprise at the nurse's statement. "Amputated wrist? Vicky, did you-"

Vicky shook her head and spoke quickly, interrupting her sister's question. "I...I don't know anything about that. I may have broken his wrist but I definitely didn't cut it off." Her eyes were wide with surprise, lacking the dullness that were in them just a few moments ago.

"Okay...I guess. Anything you wanna talk about...before I go?" Amy asked her sister.

Vicky shook her head again. "Nah...I don't even know what I was going to say. It was probably nothing. I'll be getting ready to fly home in a minute or two. Can you finish by then? "

"Yeah, I'll be done by then but are you sure you're okay?" Amy asked again.

"Yeah, I;m fine."

Shrugging, Amy stood up. "If you're sure." Walking into the hallway, she glanced back to see her sister looking at her arms with the same confusion on her face.

'What's up with Vicky?'

Sighing, Amy turned away and walked across the hall to the room the nurse had mentioned. She raised a hand to knock only to step back quickly as the door suddenly opened, nearly striking her in the face.

A well-dressed Hispanic man stepped out of the room carrying a briefcase, an annoyed look on his scarred face. Catching sight of Amy, his annoyance shifted to surprise. "Pardon me, I wasn't aware someone was at the door."

"It's no problem. You didn't hit me," Amy replied.

The man smiled at her and nodded. "Ah, that's very good. I'd hate to hurt a nice young girl like yourself."

She smiled back, unsure of what to say and after a moment of silence, the man walked past her, a frown sliding back onto his face. Giving him a parting look, Amy turned back to the door and after a second of hesitation, walked into the room.

As if drawn by a magnet, Her eyes immediately locked themselves to his body. How couldn't she? His chest caught her eye immediately. Not in that way, of course. She only had eyes for one person but...his body was interesting in a different way. Frankly, it didn't make sense. He was muscular, very much so. However, he was also still skinny and somewhat...gangly. Instead of building muscle, it looked like every single muscle already in his body just...tightened. Every single muscle on his chest and arms was defined in it's entirety. It was an odd sight but not unappealing...to some people, not her.

He slowly lifted his head to look at her, a weak smile on his face.

She smiled back at him, her own grin just as weak and awkward.

It only took her a few seconds to realize how weird they must have looked. Two teenagers just staring and giving each other awkward, forced smiles. The thought was enough to propel her to actually say something.

"Hey..."

It wasn't poetry but it was a start.

"Hey...again," he replied, his smile becoming a bit less weak.

The two of them stared at each other again and Amy began to twitch as every single second of silence only made the whole situation feel more and more awkward.

"So...I hear you lost your hand..." Amy paused as she realized what she just said and she mentally face-palmed. 'I hear you lost your hand...Good job, Amy. That's how you start a conversation.'

Her thoughts were interrupted by laughter and she blinked in surprise as Superior chuckled in front of her as if he had heard the funniest joke of his life.  
He placed a hand around his stomach as he continued to laugh. "I'm sorry..hehehe...it's just...oh my god...I heard you lost your hand...that...that was pretty funny."

Blushing in embarrassment, Amy simply stood there feeling awkward as his laughter slowly trailed away.

Still chuckling, he looked up at her with a rather large smile on his face. "Hey, Panacea..."

"What?"

Superior raised his right hand from where he had kept it under the bed covers and Panacea raised a hand to her mouth. She hadn't expected it to be this bad. When she had seen him fighting, it had reminded her of Vicky. He had the same raw power, that unmistakable strength and sheer confidence. Seeing him as he was was, he seemed so...normal. His hand had already healed over, leaving little more than a stump at the wrist. Despite this, he was still smiling at her as if nothing was wrong. "I know I'm kinda missing my right, but on the other hand," he paused, lifting up his whole left hand, "I'm just fine."

There was a long moment of silence between the two as Amy processed what he had just said. Then raucous laughter burst from her throat before she could stop it.  
Amy couldn't help it. The terrible pun combined with the ridiculous grin on his face were just too much for her to handle.

"You know, now that I lost my right hand, I notice that there's something weird with my left...but I just can't put my finger on it."

She doubled over with laughter.

"You know, this is all my fault. I should have stopped fighting before things got too much for me to handle."

Leaning on the door to support herself, she looked up at him, still giggling like a crazy person. "Stop it!"

He stopped talking but the smile stayed plastered on his face. "Something wrong? Don't you like my jokes?"

'Something wrong? You lost a hand! At least act like you care!' She tried to glare at him but the unwilling smile on her face ruined any force it may have had.  
"No, I don't. They're terrible and...those puns...they're just...really bad. All of them are...are..."

Superior smirked at Amy's words. "Wait, wait. Let me guess...getting out of hand?"

"..." Amy stared at him silently, a blank look on her face.

"Come on...that one was funny too."

"..."

Superior sighed and raised his stump up once again. "Fine, I'll be serious," he said, smirking.

Folding her arms over her chest, Amy narrowed her eyes at the joking amputee. "Completely serious?"

"Completely. All bad puns aside, I'm out on a limb here. You think you could give me a hand?", Superior joked.

Amy sighed. "...look, to be honest, I don't even know if I can help you. How did you lose your hand anyway? Vicky said hed"

"I was trying out something new with my powers. Apparently, my Striker power isn't really Manton limited so..." he waved the stump to emphasize his point.

"So, you blew off your own hand."

Superior clicked his tongue and nodded his head nonchalantly, as if talking about the weather. "Yeah, I did."

"Wow..." replied Amy, shaking her head. "Either way, I still can't help you. You don't have any excess fat on your body for me to use."

Superior raised an eyebrow."Is that really necessary?"

"If you don't want to look like a skeleton, then yeah, it kinda is."

"Well, I'm sorry that my body is in such perfect shape."

Amy gave his stump of a hand a pointed look. "Perfect shape…really? Okay, listen, Superior, I-"

"Greg."

"Huh?"

He grinned at her, displaying every single one of his ridiculously shiny white teeth. "Greg Veder, that's my name. You don't have to call me Superior."

'What is it with this guy? First he's all nervous like me and now he's being all cool and nice…weird.' "Okay…you can call me Amy. Look, I can't heal your arm as you are. You really have to gain some weight otherwise the biomass to fix you is going to come from somewhere important."

Greg sat up in the hospital bed, the covers falling away from his chest allowing Amy to get a glimpse at his waist . 'Oh my god, he's naked! Why is he naked?'

"I can heal myself, though. It shouldn't matter right?"

"Ummm…I don't...know..." 'Does it matter?' Amy hadn't really healed any capes with healing factors as strong as his so the possibility was there.

"Why don't we just try?" he replied, the same goofy, nonchalant smile still on his face.

"...okay." Amy stepped away from the door and walked up to the side of his bed. She held her hand over his stump and glanced at him. "Ready?"

Greg nodded.

She placed her hand on his arm and the unnatural details of his body filled her mind once again. In a few seconds, his hand had regrown perfectly, flesh smoothly flowing into place.

Greg held up his hand, flexing and making a fist. "Wow, you're just as amazing as last time. Thanks, Amy...Amy? You all right?"

Amy nodded blankly, not fully paying attention to his words. She had healed his wrist and regrown his hand. It was a simple manipulation of his skin, muscles, nerves and keratin. She had done similar operations hundreds of times.

It was basic.

It was routine.

It was...too easy.

Amy found healing people rather easy, in general. There were no issues she couldn't deal with, as long as they weren't related to the brain. However, accidents that lead to missing body parts were a different matter. To replace a body part that was no longer there, she needed biomass. Whether it came from the person themselves or something else, she needed living matter to restore body parts.

That was no longer the case. She had seen the inner workings of Greg's body, seen where his skin had healed over and the blood had clotted, preventing his wrist from bleeding out. She had seen every single part of his body, from his insanely designed brain to his size 9 feet. No biomass had moved from anywhere else in his body. His hand had just _regrown_ itself on her command and if that wasn't odd enough, it had been so smooth and quick that she had barely noticed she was done. 'Just weird.'

"Panacea!"

Amy looked up in surprise, jumping a bit. Greg was barely a few inches from her nose as he leaned forward in bed. His hand held hers with an iron grip that felt intimately familiar as it reminded her of Vicky's own strong hands.

"You alright?"

Amy nodded fiercely. "Yeah, I was just thinking about something...you were saying something?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah, I was saying that it looks like I owe you another one for helping me out again. You're really nice," he answered, grinning at her.

Shaking her head, Amy took a few steps back and her hand slipped out of Greg's with a gentle tug. "No, no, no. It's fine, seriously."

Greg shook his own head side to side in response. "No way, I'm not taking no for an answer. You've helped me out twice. You deserve something."

"No, I'm seriously okay."

His head tilted in confusion and a look of disappointment crossed his face. "You sure?

Amy winced as she glanced at him. As he was right now, his blue eyes all big and his lip jutting out in a pout, he looked at her the same way Vicky looked when she wanted something. It was an expression that never failed to tug on her heartstrings and now was no different. "...Fine, what do you have in mind?"

He opened his mouth and paused for a moment as if thinking about it. "...how about...dinner?"

Amy arched an eyebrow. 'So he just wants a date...of course, what else did I expect?' "Dinner? You want to go out with me?"

His eyes widened in surprise and she noticed a tinge of red in his cheeks. "No, no, no, no...not like a date. I don't want to go on a date. Not that you're not pretty or anything. You're really pretty. Beautiful, even...Like, I'm not just saying that too, really. I just don't want to date you."

Amy blushed a little bit and she pursed her lips. As Greg spoke, she wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or complimented. 'You're beautiful but I don't want to date you?'

"Thank you...I think?"

Greg threw his head back and let out a breath of air. "No, don't...It's not like that. There's this other girl I like and I'm trying to ask her out but I keep getting nervous. Honestly, I think she's kinda out of my league."

She waited for him to start laughing but he simply stared at her. When she realized he wasn't joking, she simply gave him a blank look. "Nervous? Out of your league? Greg, Superior, you beat Lung...today, you fought a team of villains and Glory Girl. What the hell do **you** have to be nervous about? And out of your league? Who in Brockton Bay could possibly be out of your le..." Amy paused as a sudden realization and a hint of annoyance made it's way into her expression. "It's Vicky, isn't it? That's the girl?"

"Vicky?", Greg stared at her, obviously confused by her question. "Who's...oh, you mean Glory Girl? No, it's not her. I don't...I don't really like blondes. It's a personal thing."

"You don't like...but you're blonde, though. And so is your mom."

"Yeah, but I don't want to date myself or my mom," Greg replied with a grin. "So, whaddya say? Dinner tomorrow...as friends?"

Amy smiled at him. 'He's kinda weird and he talks a lot but he's not the worst guy I know.' "Fine, why not? You seem harmless enough."

"Don't you mean armless?" he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Amy groaned, face-palming. "God, you're worse than Clockblocker!"

"Come on, Amy. Just make one arm joke. You know you want tooooo."

Amy stared at him again, her blank look sliding back onto her face. "I really don't."

"Come on."

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"Come oooooon."

Letting out a breath through her nostrils, Amy huffed. "Fine...I'm glad I was able to...lend a hand."

Greg leaned back on his bed, smiling at the annoyed healer cape. "See, wasn't that fun?"

"...Bye, Greg. See you tomorrow," Panacea called out as she walked toward the door.

"WAIT!"

Panacea turned her head at Greg's call. "You want something?"

"We didn't get each other's numbers. How are we supposed to make plans?"

Amy sighed, her hand still on the doorknob. "You can go ahead and make the plans. Surprise me. I'll be ready at my house by seven pm tomorrow."

"Oh...okay."

"Bye, Greg. Don't go losing another hand." With that said, Panacea left the room, leaving Greg alone with his thoughts.

Five minutes later, Greg sighed as a thought suddenly made it's way into the forefront of his mind and he ran his fingers through his Mohawk.

"I forgot to ask her to fix my hair! God Damnit!" 


	32. Interlude 2f: Evron Grey

Interlude 2f: Evron Grey

Mickey leaned up against the dumpster behind the alley wall, hands on his knees as he took in heavy, rasping breaths. Sweat poured down his brow, making his already red-rimmed eyes even more irritated. A rather large bag on his back seemed to be doing all it could to weigh him down, giving him a bit of a hump.

Slowly catching his breath, Mickey wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, not even caring that he was spreading some dirt on his face. It didn't matter to him at all. His face was already smeared with grime, dried blood and other miscellaneous filth. The clothes he wore, from the tattered scarf around his neck to the stolen pair of Jordans on his feet, were exactly the same. Scratching his ratty brown hair, he spit on the dirty alley ground and let out a sigh.

With a slight grunt, the filthy young man stood up as straight as he could and jerked his head around to both sides of the alley. Satisfied that he was alone, he reached into the front pockets of something that may once have been a pair of cargo shorts and pulled out a leather wallet with a swastika on the side and a pocket knife that was slick with fresh blood.

Throwing the small knife to the ground, Mickey raised the wallet to his face, a yellow-toothed smile spreading across his face.

The smile vanished in an instant.

"Fuckin' cum-suckin' Nazi cunt!", he screamed, throwing the wallet to the ground. "Broke-ass motherfucker! Shit!"

Sighing, Mickey slumped to the ground, putting his head between his knees. With a glance at the blood-covered switchblade next to him, he shook his head. This wasn't what he wanted with his life. Twenty-four and nothing more than a low-level drug dealer, he was stuck mugging people just to make enough money to prove his worth.

Mickey frowned, sighing. "Fuck it, Bam ain't gonna find out about this." Removing his backpack from his shoulders, he placed it between his legs and pulled open the zipper. The second he saw the contents of the bag, his face visibly lit up, the manic greed of an addict showing clearly.

The night of the Riots had not been good to the Merchants. When most of your members are high during a gang fight, they're not going to do all that well. Case in point, a large amount of Merchants had been arrested or killed on Monday night. One of them was a dealer named Ruiz that happened to be a few rungs up the totem pole from Mickey. Mickey knew Ruiz well enough to know that the hispanic Merchant had a large stash hidden in his place, a stash that was now in his possession.

Mickey had trashed the fucker's place this morning searching for his really good shit, the same shit that he had gotten as a gift from the big boss. By the time he had found it, Ruiz's apartment was destroyed, a complete fucking mess. It had taken hours but he had found everything. No more stealing money for his boss, Bam, so he could get something better than the rationed amounts of drugs the Merchants provided for their members. No more having to cut the weed he sold with more powerful stuff to try and get people hooked. He was free of all that shit.

At least, for as long as Ruiz's supply lasted.

If you hadn't already guessed, Mickey was not one of the more upstanding examples of society. No, as a Merchant, Mickey was considered the lowest of the low. His name wasn't even Mickey. One of the other dealers had simply remarked that he looked like a mouse with all his twitching and another had mentioned the famous animated rodent. And just like that, he was branded. Michael O'Connor was now and forever Mickey the Mouse.

Everything had changed for the young man so quickly and he had no choice but to go along with it.

It had been over three years ago when it happened. Mickey, the uptight English major that he was, decided to loosen up and go to a frat party. He was enjoying himself so much he had taken things a step further, ditching beer for shots of vodka and some weird yellow pill. It didn't take long for him to realize that he had fucked up, losing himself to the point that he could barely even walk straight. Later that night, he ended up following some weird looking guys in an attempt to get some more drugs. When he woke up, he found himself strung out and needing more...whatever it was that he had been injected with.

Before that night, he had never thought much about the Merchants. To his former self, they were the worst sort of scum, and their boss was the biggest example of that; dirty, stupid and worthless as well.

Now, though...now he knew better.

When you were looking from the outside, the Merchants looked like a bunch of druggies that banded together.

On the inside...well, they were pretty much that. They were actually organized, though. They had something like a hierarchy and only other Merchants knew how the system worked.

Skidmark wasn't stupid either. Nah, the boss could probably teach a Chemistry course over at Brown. Everyone knew Skids knew how to cook the best shit. Shit that gave you thrills, the best high that stayed with you for hours and got you hooked as quick as possible.

Other gangs sold drugs.

Skidmark created them.

The best part about the Merchants was the incentives. The better you did, the more drugs you sold and the more people you turned would get you noticed by the boss and his personal crew. When you got noticed, you got gifts. Gifts like new bongs, better weapons and best of all, drugs the boss made personally.

Mickey knew that Ruiz was serious about the Merchant life, treating this shit like a fucking job. The guy had quotas and he made charts for himself and everything. He kept notes on what he sold and where it sold best. He would travel out of town and mug homeless people several times a week, shooting them up with the real good stuff and making sure they were hooked before taking them back to one of the safehouses. He was a fucking over-achieving motherfucker on some OCD-type shit but that fucker knew what he was doing. His OCD shit actually worked. Skids even knew him by name, and wasn't that fucking rare? With how well he was doing, he definitely had tons of Skidmark's shit.

Mickey shoved his hand into the bag, digging around. There were dozens of small plastic baggies in the bag with a multitude of multicolored pills, tablets, powders and leaves. The longer he continued searching, he began to worry he wouldn't find what he had been looking for.

No...no...no...no...maybe later...no...n-YES!

His hands trembled with joy and more than a little trepidation as he brought out the small Ziploc bag. In addition to it's small size, it contained less than five tiny uneven-looking red pills that made Mickey drool at the sight of them. This...this was what he had been waiting for. This was what had gotten him hooked.

Devil Dust, Skidmark's take on PCP, was everything to the strung-out shell of a man. Mickey knew that he would do anything for more of this. Hell, he had been planning on killing Ruiz to get at his supply and he considered the fucker a friend. That didn't really have any weight on his decision to murder the man anyway as Mickey knew that he would have killed the bastard in a second just to get at his shit. Fuck, he would have offered to suck Skidmark's dick simply to get a taste of his personal supply but he knew that wouldn't work. Skids already had his blonde big-titted Tinker bitch to fuck.

He knew he was never going to leave the Merchants. He was a druggie and this was his life now. He doubted his family or friends wanted him around considering that he had robbed them blind several times. He had no skills and the way he looked now with his collapsed veins and multiple skin rashes, it'd be impossible for him to get a job now.

No, this was for the best. After all, he couldn't live a normal life knowing these tiny red babies were out there somewhere just waiting for him.

His hands trembled and shook as he tried to open the tiny little baggie.

"Chill, man, fuckin' chill...relax...ju-just smooth," Mickey whispered to himself, in an attempt to force himself to calm down. He couldn't afford to get twitchy and drop the fucking pills. He'd lose it if he lost this shit. He only had five of them, after all. "It's been so fuckin' long."

It had been a long time. Three years since he had gotten hooked, in fact. Three long, long, long years since he had taken sweet, sweet Devil Dust. As a rank and file member of the Merchants, he only had access to drugs that he was expected to sell. Stealing from the supply got you a visit from Mush and no one wanted to face his special "Trash Compactor."

Left with no other choice, he had been forced to make due with the rationed drugs all the other lazy assholes got, weak-ass Heroin and PCP that were padded with various other substances. It was...okay but nothing like what he remembered.

It just wasn't Devil Dust.

Reaching a trembling hand into the bag, he grabbed hold of a single pill and brought it out. Just the sight of it brought back memories of the best high he'd ever had. He needed this more than anything. He raised the pill to his mouth and suddenly fumbled as a loud car-alarm went off just outside the alley. The pill tumbled from his fingers and he was barely quick enough to catch it, preventing it from getting lost in the grime of the alley.

He glanced at the entrance of the alley and his breath quickened as he saw what was clearly another Merchant rush past the alley entrance, car stereo in hand.

'No...The fuck am I doing? Getting high in the middle of the Docks? Fuck, I'd be lucky if some fucker only stole my shit and didn't slit my throat too.' Glancing back at the red pill, Mickey dropped it into the bag with a sad look and closed up the baggie.

Shaking his head regretfully, Mickey put the baggie back into his backpack. Despite his urge to simply take the pill, getting high in the middle of the Docks was a horrible idea. It would probably cost him his life if he used it here and now. No, he had to wait till he got back to his place. After all, he had waited three years, he could handle a few more minutes.

Zipping the bag closed, he quickly picked it up, throwing it over his shoulder. He stood up and prepared to exit the alley only to backpedal into the dumpster, a look of stricken fear on his grimy face.

Mickey had been rather careful choosing this alley. Taking into account the fact that he had committed several crimes this morning, he had done his best to get away from the scene of the crime, only stopping to mug a lone E88 member.

From what he could tell, he had been the only one in the alley. He had checked, after all. Besides, with almost a quarter of the Docks gone, not too many people wanted to stay in the area. Mickey thought he was safe from any prying eyes.

Apparently, he was wrong.

The first thing he noticed was the hair. Instead of it being grey or a really light blonde, it was just...white. If he had been older, it wouldn't have been so strange but the face that stood across from him couldn't have been older than eighteen. He wore a formfitting sleeveless black shirt with luminescent blue circuitry running up and down the sides where the seams would be. His pants bore the same design.

"Hey there," the boy said cheerfully, lifting up a hand in a lazy wave.

Mickey shook against the wall, fears running through his mind. He hadn't heard a single footstep or even noticed he had been there. How long had he been there, anyway? How could he have snuck up on him so easily? Was that his power?  
He had to be cape, he just had to be.

Mickey opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out but throaty gasps.  
'A cape...a fucking cape...I'm done.' He was a regular guy. Put him up against a regular guy and he would use every dirty trick in the book to made sure they stayed down for good. A cape, though? He couldn't take on a cape and he wasn't stupid or high enough to try.

"Hey, buddy."

Mickey raised a finger to point at himself, hand quivering like a leaf. "...m-m-m-me?"

The cape kid nodded. "Yeah, you. What were you doing? Something illegal?"

Mickey shook his head quickly, eyes wide with fear. "No-no-no-no-no! Nothing!"

The cape tilted his head to the side, his lips forming a knowing smile. "I don't think that's true. "

Swallowing, Mickey tried to step back only to flinch upon feeling the rough brick wall behind him. "I don't...I don't...uh..."

With a slight wave of his hand, the bloody knife Mickey had dropped earlier flew from the ground and into the hands of the white haired boy, startling the Merchant even more.

He lifted the knife to eye level, ignoring the blood on his fingers from holding the blade. "Look, you seem like a nice, honest and decent guy," he continued, twirling the knife through his fingers. "You might be a bit down on your luck but that doesn't make you a criminal, am I right?"

There was a silence and Mickey realized that the cape expected him to say something. Although, when it comes to asking a question you want someone to respond to, better effort should really be made to make sure it doesn't come off as rhetorical. The little bit of English Major still kicking around in Mickey's head almost begged him to correct the cape's sentence structure. "Uh...no?"

The cape nodded sagely, still twirling the knife faster and faster.

"See, man, I'm not saying you're a liar. Really, I'm not. It's just that I'm pretty sure you stabbed a guy with this knife...," he paused, balancing the tip of said knife on his thumb without even glancing at it.

Another wave of his hand and a wallet appeared in front of Mickey's face, hovering in the air. He began to sweat as soon as he saw the familiar swastika emblazoned on the wallet. 'Holy...no, this guy's E88 too. He's a fuckin' villain. I'm dead!'

"I think you stole from him too. Took his wallet and everything. Guy's probably bleeding out right now, huh?", he continued, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "I mean, he was a Nazi so I can understand, but still. All that seems pretty bad..."

Mickey could barely keep himself from hyperventilating. This cape just messing around with him before he was going to kill him! He knew it! He had to...he had to say something.

Trembling like a child, Mickey began to shed fat tears. "Please, please, please, man, don't kill me. I didn't know the guy was E88...and it-it-it was too late when I realized it. I'll leave the Merchants, I promise! I'm white, man! I'll join the Empire too! I'll tell you everything I know! Please!"

The cape raised an eyebrow. "I'm not part of the Empire, man."

Mickey's breathing slowed and he paused before he spoke again, slowly gulping. "So you're not gonna kill me?"

He laughed slowly, a light sound that managed to terrify Mickey even more. "Well, that all depends on you, doesn't it? I mean, let's go over what crimes you've committed since I actually noticed you running around town. There's breaking and entering, aggravated battery, attempted murder, theft..."

The cape was still speaking in that same calm, friendly tone as he went over the laundry list of crimes Mickey had committed, almost as if the two were old friends. All the while, the switchblade began to spin on top of his finger, drawing Mickey's attention. As it spun faster and faster, it began to glow the same shade of blue as the cape's eyes, and little sparks seemed to be running up and down the blade.

"...and that's without even getting into possession. I mean, did you think I wouldn't notice the huge amount of drugs you're carrying around in that backpack?," he added nonchalantly.

Mickey froze up and glanced at the smiling cape.

"...am...am I going to jail?" He winced as soon as he voiced the question. The guy was a superhero so of course he was going to take him to jail.

Instead of responding, the cape grinned, showing off his perfect white teeth. Mickey shuddered again. As a Merchant, he didn't like heroes off of sheer principle but he wanted to be a thousand miles away from this one right now. With his white hair, pale skin and the odd, friendly way he spoke, this cape was completely freaking Mickey the fuck out. If that wasn't enough, then the fact that he threatened to kill him while smiling the whole time and appearing out of nowhere like some fucking vampire was even more terrifying.

"Well, again, that all depends on you. Considering how easily you gutted that Nazi, you've probably murdered at least two other people since you've been a Merchant. Actually, you know what?" The cape paused and cocked his head, the spinning knife coming to an immediate stop and falling into the palm of his hand. He raised the knife, blade no longer sparking with electricity, and pointed it at Mickey's eye, his grin becoming much scarier as his perfect flat teeth became long and sharp. "Now that I think about it, I really should just kill you..."

Mickey's jaw fell open and he tried to back away only to realize, with a sinking feeling, that he was already hugging the alley wall.

'No! No! No! No!' Mickey opened his mouth to beg, but as before, fear had locked up his lungs, preventing him from doing more than wheezing. He couldn't breathe and any attempt to shout for help left his mouth hanging open in a silent mockery of a scream.

The cape stepped forward, the switchblade still in his palm and Mickey threw his hands in front of him, a whimper making it's way out of his mouth.

Instead of stabbing him, the cape flipped the knife until his fingers were holding the blade and he held out the hilt to Mickey, presenting him his weapon.

There was silence between the two as he simply stood there staring at the blade. His eyes moved upwards from the blade to stare at the cape kid and he flinched again as he locked eyes with him.

The cape was watching him closely with his head tilted in a way that could almost be described as childlike if it wasn't for the intensity his stare had. His wide grin displayed his pointed teeth and, worst of all, his eyes had started to shine, giving off an eerie blue light.

Turning away from his penetrating gaze, Mickey glanced back down at the knife that was being held out towards him. 'W-what does he want? Isn't he going to kill me? Is he just playing around? Does he want me to take the knife? I don't get it!' Sweat ran down his brow in rivulets from the stress as he repeatedly, glanced up and down between the cape and the knife, indecision and fear preventing him from moving.

He looked up again to see the cape's grin begin to fade, his eyes losing their playfulness, and the beginnings of a frown starting to form on his face.

'Take it! Take the knife before he changes his mind!' With a trembling hand, Mickey picked up the knife and gave the cape opposite him a strained smile. "T-thank you..."

The cape stepped back, eyes still glowing, and sighed. "As I was saying, I really should kill you but...I have a better idea. First things first, what's your name?"

"My...m-my name?"

The cape nodded in response.

"It's Mick..." Mickey paused. There was no reason to give this cape his nickname. All that might do is set him off again for not being truthful. "I'm Mike...O'Connor. Michael O'Connor."

"Well, Mike, you can call me...eh...fuck it, I don't care...Call me Evron," the cape replied, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, Mike, you like getting high, right?"

Mike blinked at Evron and stared at him for a few seconds, well aware that Evron knew full well that he was carrying a large amount of drugs on his person. 'Is that a trick question? Doesn't matter. Just tell the truth!'

"Y-yeah..."

Evron clasped his hands together and raised them to his face, somewhat hiding his smile. "What would you say if I could give you something that could give you the best high of your life?"

'I have no fucking idea what's going on right now.' "Uhh...I'm good. I-I already got high a c-couple hours ago. I'm f-fine," he replied slowly, unsure of what to say.

"You sure? Cause I have a brand new drug with me. It can really change your life." Evron smirked as he said this, opening up his clenched hands.

Mike gasped as he saw what he held. A thin line of fine blue powder lay in his palm, each single crystalline flake glowing just the tiniest bit and contributing to the sparkling azure lightshow in his hand.

"Do you want to be clean, Mike? Not be stuck looking for your next fix." Evron asked, his eyes losing their glow.

Transfixed by the sight of the tiny crystalline powder, Mike nodded slowly, his mind moving oddly slow. "Yeah...that'd be...that'd be cool."

"These crystals, right here, can do that for you. Just snort them right up, okay. Can you do that for me?"

Mike nodded slowly. 'That sounded like a good idea. Free drugs were always good, yeah. Wait, Free?!' Mike felt his thoughts speed up and he realized something was wrong immediately. Drugs were never free. Free drugs meant bad things for the user.

"I-I-I'm good, man. I really don't need anymore drugs. I'm already-" Mike shut up as Evron's grin widened, stretching to lengths that he wasn't sure a person's face could handle.

"Come on, Mike. It's me, Ev. You know. We've been hanging out for a while now. I offered you some drugs. I found your knife for you. It's our little joke, man. I try to kill you, you act like you're scared. Come on, man. **Remember**."

Mikey looked up at Evron, confused as to what he was saying. "I d-don't. Who..." he paused, a headache forming as he tried to think, his thoughts escaping him. A single drop of blood fell from his nose and he swayed on his feet before hurriedly steadying himself. He glanced up at at Evron, a dazed expression on his face. "W-what are you talking about, man? Of course I know you. We're friends, man. I wouldn't forget you. I must have gotten really high or something. My head's all messed up."

Evron nodded, his smile becoming much less forced. "Yeah, you gotta lay off of that weak shit. It's definitely cut with something weird. You gotta try this, though. Ii made it myself and It'll fix you right up."

Mike returned Evron's smile with one of his own and pulled out a straw from one of the pockets of his cargo shorts. Placing one end in his nostril, he laid the other on Evron's palm and in one smooth, practiced movement, the entire line had vanished up the straw.

Mike blinked rapidly and stepped back, the straw falling out of his hand. This...this was amazing. This was living. His eyes widened, his senses expanding in a sudden rush. The world unfolded in front of him, ideas and inspiration filling his mind with thoughts that he couldn't yet comprehend. Colors, pictures, thoughts, experiences...all of them unfamiliar, but so amazing.

Images grew into thoughts, thoughts grew into ideas, ideas became more and more complex every single moment. He needed to do something, to make something, to invent anything. His hands needed to do **_something!_**

Pain racked his brain and he stumbled into the wall, clutching his head, his mouth open in a silent scream.

More and more poured into his mind, increasing his understanding to heights that he never thought possible until...it just stopped.

Mike collapsed to his knees, saliva dribbling from the sides of his mouth. Ideas still raced through his mind but at a more sedate pace, the movement of a car compared to the speed of a bullet. That drug...that blue powder...it had been magical. A high that even Devil Dust couldn't beat. For a minute, he had known everything, understood everything. He had been **GOD**.

Now, though, he was shaken, his mind unsure of what exactly he had seen. Blood dripped from his nose, his head _burned_ and he felt like sleeping forever. Despite all of that, he still felt _great_...or at the very least, better than usual. His limbs no longer felt like lead weights, and the itching that came with his skin rashes no longer burned. His mind...oh, his mind was clearer than it had been in years and he could actually think again. His thoughts seemed to be filled with thoughts of drugs, though...which was normal.

Looking up at the figure standing above him, he blinked in surprise. "Hey, thanks for the stuff, man. Nice of you, really. It was...great," he paused, wincing as a powerful burst of pain from his headache caught him unawares,"...I think but...what... _AAAAHH!"_

Mike tried to stand up but stumbled, another surge of pain sending him down to his hands and knees. His muscles weren't responding. They were...they were doing...things. Moving when he didn't want them to, jerking all over the place. What happened to him,"Ev...Ev...what was that? What did you...do to..urggh...me?" Mike felt a weightless sensation surround his body, the world suddenly lurching as he was lifted into the air directly in front of Evron.

The white haired-cape simply stared at Mike as his muscles spasmed and seized in the air, a disinterested look on his face. "We're friends, Mike. Don't worry, I won't hurt you. You'll be fine. I made you better, more than human. Tell me, how do you feel, Mike?"

"...ugh...My head hurts and my body...is like-"

Evron shook his head and sighed. "I don't care about your body, Michael. I'll fix that later. Tell me about your head."

Michael groaned again, his body rebelling against him. "There's all these ideas...in my head. Like chemicals...medicine... _ **drugs."**_

A blinding smile appeared on Evron's face and he let out a slow chuckle. "That's amazing, Mike. You have no idea how lucky you are right now."

"Huh?"

"Doesn't matter now. Let's get you cleaned up." Evron's eyes emanated that blue light once again, his pupils disappearing and he raised one hand into the air.

Mike gasped as what could only be described as a tear in space opened a few feet above them. Wider than he was tall and emanating dark blue light, the thing looked terrifying, to say the least.

Mike wasn't scared, though. His buddy was by his side and he knew that, as strong as Ev was, he'd protect him. Evron was a good friend and he would never hurt him.

In a flash, the two were gone, leaving an empty alley behind.


	33. Complications 2-8B

Complications 2.8B

Greg narrowed his eyes at the object on his bed, something the PRT had been kind enough to give him once again and something that was annoying the hell out of him right now.

Stepping forward, he stretched out a single hand but the second he so much as grazed the object, he drew his hand back quickly, his lips turned down into a scowl. He knew he couldn't use it without something bad happening and frankly, the PRT should have known that before they gave it to him. Hell, the nurse should have thought ahead before she gave it to him. But then again, she said that they didn't have anymore right now.

It was something that Greg had come to hate over the past month, an item that had caused him more than enough headaches. It seemed innocent, laying there on his bed, seemingly unaware of the turmoil it was causing him. Greg knew better. It was taunting him, just like so many had done before it.

What could this mysterious object be, you ask?

A black T-shirt. Crew-neck, to be exact.

He stood shirtless in front of his hospital bed, wearing nothing but a pair of slightly baggy jeans and fuzzy hospital slippers as he stared at the piece of black cloth. All the while, the cotton-polyester blend called out to him, a siren song of soft fabric that was almost audible to his eardrums enticing him to wear it.

'Wear me, Greg. Wear me,' said the shirt.

Turning away from the piece of clothing, he closed his his eyes and sighed. "I can't, Mr. Shirt. I just can't."

'Why not, Greg? I'm so soft and comfortable and it's so cold in here. I bet your nips are freezing.'

Greg shook his head at that. His nips weren't cold at all. They were rather toasty, actually, much like the rest of him. "I'm fine. My nips are fine. It's just not a good idea for me to put you on."

'What? Why? You get some muscle tone and you're too good for me, is that it? Just gonna go around shirtless like some meathead bodybuilder only drinking protein shakes and raw eggs, huh? You're a hero now and you think you're too good for me?' ranted the shirt.

Greg turned around and placed his hands on the bed, directly on top of the black cotton blend. "It's not you, Mr. Shirt. It's me. I'm not the same Greg I was a month ago. You're still the same. I'd tear you apart and we both don't want that to happen."

'Come on, Greg. You can do it. Just put me on carefully,' pleaded the shirt.

"I said no, Mr. Shirt! Why can't you understand that?"

'I'm a shirt. People wear us. It's our lot in life. I accept it. Why can't you, Greg?'

"But it's for your own safety, Mr. Shirt. I'd tear to pieces before I even put you on. Why can't you understand?" Greg responded, irritation obvious in his tone.

'Cause I'm not real, Greg. I'm just a figment of your overactive imagination trying to find a way to think about the pros and cons of wearing a shirt without getting bored.'

Greg blinked in surprise and blushed, realizing that he had actually been having a conversation with a shirt. "Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me, Mr. Shirt."

The T-shirt didn't respond. It was a T-shirt, after all. Despite the impossibility of the shirt actually coming to life, Greg found himself actually hoping it would respond.

He blinked again. "Wait...what the hell am I doing?"

Rolling his eyes, he let a slow sigh escape him. "Note to self, stop talking to yourself. Things start getting weird."

Looking down at the shirt once again, Greg shook his head slowly and wondered if he should actually try and put it on. He knew that it probably wouldn't be a good idea but he still wanted to try.

Ever since he had gotten his powers, Greg had experienced some issues in regard to clothing. Essentially, most clothes were not durable enough for him to even put on without them tearing apart when he wasn't paying attention. Seeing as he had a habit of getting distracted and a tendency to get lost in his own head, not to mention daydreaming, more than a few of his clothes had ended up in the trash heap.

"Man, where's Ev when you need him?" he grumbled to himself, gently lifting up the shirt. "He could just work his magic and I could wear this thing easy."

After Greg had raised complaints about his habit of ruining clothes, Evron had done something to his remaining clothes; making them stronger, more durable. They weren't that tough and they wouldn't stop a knife but at least he'd be less likely to tear them to shreds by stretching or something.

With all the speed of a snail that had recently discovered the joys of marijuana, Greg eased one arm into the shirt.

'Come on...'

After almost fifteen seconds, he had gotten one hand in the shirt completely without incident. Ten seconds after that, the other hand had entered the sleeve, leaving only his head free.

It was slow going but it was working well enough.

'Come on...'

He patiently inched his head into the hole until he had finally brought it down on top of his ears. And therein lay the next issue.

"Come on!"

Greg tried to slide his head into the hole of the crew neck shirt but all the gentle nudging in the world wasn't going to let him fit through the crew neck hole and attempting to flatten his ears did nothing. His own ears tended to stick out and that didn't make this any easier at all.

Nearly a minute later and he was still at it, still moving slow in order to avoid tearing the shirt.

"Gaaaaaaahhhh!", screamed Greg, forcing himself not to flail his arms in frustration. "The fuck is this? Stupid shirt!"

He could barely see anything with the shirt over his eyes and he was quickly getting tired of this. Greg had gotten his hands through the arm holes without much trouble and had managed to pull the shirt over his chest easily. The only thing giving him trouble was his head and, unfortunately, his rather prominent ears.

Groaning, Greg tried to reverse the mess he had gotten himself into and remove the shirt without ruining it. He quickly found out that was easier said than done. "Uggghhh! Stupid shirt! Can't put it on! Can't take it off! GOD!"

After struggling for a few more seconds, Greg let out a breath through his nostrils. "Fuck you, Mr. Shirt, " he said under his breath.

Quickly stretching his arms out to the side, the shirt tore apart on his chest, fragments of black cloth falling to the ground.

"What's wrong with a V-neck, huh? Does the fucking PRT not have V-necks?" he screamed to no-one, his breathing heavy from exasperation.

"Actually, the PRT does have V-necks," came a voice from behind him.

Greg sucked in a breath. 'That's a girl's voice...a girl is behind me. Okay...she probably saw you doing something weird...like talking to yourself. Just play it cool...'

His arms folded over his bare chest, Greg whipped around to face his observer. "This is not what it l-...Shadow Stalker?"

The dark heroine stood there, leaning on the door frame with a single shoulder while her crossbow hung off a sling on her shoulder. Her mask didn't betray her expression as it's face was set in a stoic frown but if he had to guess? By the tone of her voice, she was definitely at least a little amused.

"If you're wondering, the PRT actually does have V-necks. As many meatheads that work here, they probably have a bunch," she replied in a drawl.

'This is so embarrassing!' "Thanks for telling me, I guess."

Shadow Stalker took a few steps into the room and leaned back on the wall before finally responding. "No problem, Superior."

Greg responded with a weak chuckle. "Uh...you don't have to...I mean, you can...Just call me Greg."

"Sure...Greg."

"So...uh...you know...ok..."Greg fumbled, smiling awkwardly, "...heh...how much of that did you see...or hear?" 'Please say only the last part. Please!'

Shadow Stalker cocked her head. "Enough," she answered vaguely.

"Oooookay..." 'That tells me nothing at all. Was she here for the Mr. Shirt part?' Greg grimaced internally at the thought of her seeing that. Would she tell other heroes? 'Is Shadow Stalker even the gossipy type? Should I explain myself? Cause that'd be hard as hell to explain. I'm sorry, Shadow Stalker. I just like to have conversations with inanimate objects, you know. Nothing crazy there, just normal guy stuff.'

Clearing his throat, Greg gave her a bigger smile. "Anything I can help you with, then? I was just about to leave. Gotta get home, you know."

Shadow Stalker jerked upwards from the wall as she heard that, almost startling Greg with her sudden movement. "Wait, not yet!"

Greg blinked at her outburst, confused as to what would. "Not yet?"

Shadow Stalker nodded slowly, stepping a bit closer. "I mean...I just want to talk first. I saw the work you did today. Not bad for a rookie. You looked like you were having fun."

Greg nodded along with her, his mind already thinking about the fight. "You know, thinking back on it...it was fun, yeah, but...I got my own ass kicked pretty badly too." Greg paused as he realized something. 'Now that I think about it, those dog-things might have actually taken a few chunks out of my ass.'

"And..." Greg flexed his left hand, making a fist, "I lost an entire hand because I did something stupid."

'Not to mention that I found out the Undersiders were a bunch of villains too,' he thought to himself, grimacing as he recalled how the group of capes he thought were pretty cool had tried to kill him as soon as he showed up in the bank. Because of them, he had to fight Glory Girl and while he kinda enjoyed that bit, probably a lot more than he should now that he thought about it, he knew that there would be consequences. Half of New Wave probably disliked him right now.

"Yeah...the whole fight was pretty great but I'm gonna have to train a bit before I can do something like that again. I wasn't really at the top of my game during all that," Greg replied, his smile becoming a bit more confident. "At least you guys caught the Undersiders, though."

"Who told you that?", Shadow Stalker scoffed. "That's not what happened at all."

"What do you mean?" Greg replied, narrowing his eyes.

Shadow Stalker shook her head. "What I mean is they didn't catch those fuckers. I can't tell you exactly what happened 'cause I wasn't there but I know that my team lost the fight. The Undersiders kicked their ass. Didn't even take them five minutes from what I heard."

Greg clenched both his fists as the familiar heat began to build in his chest again. "So, they...escaped?", he said, more to himself than Shadow Stalker.

Nodding, Shadow Stalker continued, speaking slowly. "Yeah, they escaped. It's fucking stupid that they couldn't stop them. I had no idea what the Wards were doing. How do you fuck up like that? I mean, I've had half of them on the defensive before by myself. Sucks that they tried to kill you, though. Then they get away with all the money. It's just...just...stu..."

Greg nodded at Shadow Stalker's words, not even paying attention anymore. From the little flashes of memory he still had, he was able to piece together how the fight with the Undersiders had went and it hadn't been pretty. The Undersiders had beat him like he owed them money. Bitch, especially. They had cheated, of course, using some kind of Master power to keep him from moving while those dogs tore into him. After all that, they had managed to escape too. 'This makes no sense! I held them off on my own for a while and the entire Wards barely lasted five minutes!' The idea that the villains had terrorized everyone in that bank, tried to kill him and succeeded in escaping with the money sent his blood boiling.

'Those fucking Undersiders! They're definitely gonna pay next time I see them. I mean...how could they...GOD DAMN IT! After everything I did, they still escaped! I'll fucking kill them! I... **I SAVED THEM FROM LUNG!** And they want to kill me! I'm gonna...I'm gonna rip them apart, **TEAR THEIR FUCKING HEADS OFF**!...Okay, okay, okay, calm down. Not kill them. Just beat them up. You don't wanna be a villain, man.' Forcing himself to calm down, Greg took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. The thought that the Undersiders had humiliated him and tried to kill him after he had fought off Lung for them did not sit well with him...at all.

Glancing up at Shadow Stalker, he noticed that her eyes were wide behind her face mask and one twitching hand was gripped tightly around her crossbow. She seemed to be in a different place, much farther away from him than she was before."...You okay? Shadow Stalker?"

She blinked a few times and glanced at him, her wide-eyed expression fading away slowly as she let go of her weapon. "Umm...yeah, I'm fine. Just a...headache," she said, her voice raspy.

'What kinda headache makes you do that? Or maybe...Was that my fault? Did I do my thing?' Greg thought back to the incident that he had entered with Miss Militia, Assault and Battery. 'Cause I don't think I even got that angry, though. I hope I didn't scare her.' Greg paused in thought for a few moments before shrugging off the feeling. 'Nah, if it was me, she would have mentioned something. She's probably not feeling okay or something.' After a few seconds of thought, Greg spoke again, ignoring the way Shadow Stalker's eyes seemed to be darting around the room. "Okay...I guess. Anything else you want to talk about, Shadow Stalker?"

Shadow Stalker trembled as he spoke again, her entire body on high alert as she struggled to keep herself under control. She gasped and blinked as he stared at her, her paralytic fear slowly disappearing as those dangerous red eyes of his faded away to blue. 'What the hell was that? It felt like he was going to kill me! Couldn't even move!'

Greg wasn't what she had expected.

When she had walked in on him, he had been trying to put on a shirt and essentially taking forever to actually do it, behaving a little like a giant five year old with all his wriggling inside the black fabric. It had actually been pretty funny in a...stupid, little kid type of way so she simply leaned on the door and waited for him to finish. She didn't really understand why he was having so much trouble. The shirt didn't seem tight enough for him to be struggling with it but then again, she wasn't the one wearing it.

After he had ripped the shirt to shreds and then yelled at those shreds, she had spoken up, trying to draw his attention. Greg had turned around to see her, moving so fast that he was literally a blur. From looks alone, she felt satisfied at first glance. He was ripped, that was for sure, and while she wasn't a huge fan of the whole E88 look, she couldn't deny that he was kinda cute. The Mohawk certainly didn't hurt.

His arms were crossed over his bare chest and from the fact that he no longer had a stump, she surmised that Panacea had already paid him a visit. he stared back at her, doing his best to look like he wasn't caught unawares. Frankly, he didn't seem like the predator she had seen in the footage. His stance was lazy, his posture submissive, and from the look on his face, he looked more embarrassed than confident.

Frankly, the way he was acting right now reminded her just a bit too much of Hebert and that thought brought her slight undercurrent of irritation to the forefront. 'What the hell is this? He's just the same weak piece of shit he was before. He's acting like fucking prey!' To make matters worse, it was almost as if Greg could sense her irritation as he seemed to shrink in on himself a little. She had almost lost interest at this point but then...

"Anything I can help you with, then? I was just about to leave. Gotta get home, you know."

Shadow Stalker jerked up from the wall. She couldn't let him leave yet. She wasn't done figuring him out yet. This weak, _Hebert,_ behavior wasn't the real him. What she had seen today...the way he had fought...even taking down Lung, no prey could ever do something like that. Just the thought of someone like Hebert doing anything like that was enough to make her laugh. Greg was a predator deep down inside and all she had to do was bring it out. 'But how?'

"Wait, not yet!"

He was confused at her insistence that he not leave yet but she wasn't done. She had to try something. Maybe...maybe if she made him remember what he did, he'd start acting right. She knew that there was a badass hiding underneath this nerdy moron. She just knew it!

So, she tried to get him to remember the fights he had gotten into and it was working. His smile went from weak to confident, he stopped slouching and he was actually looking her in the eyes. She could actually believe that he wasn't a complete pussy now. Shadow Stalker wasn't done yet. There was a predator still hiding inside him. So, she kept talking, trying to get him to remember the fight.

"...I lost an entire hand because I did something stupid." He grimaced as he said this, clenching his left hand.

'So that's the hand he lost, huh? Seems like it's still kinda bothering him,' thought Shadow Stalker.

"Yeah...the whole fight was pretty great but I'm gonna have to train a bit before I can do something like that again. I wasn't really at the top of my game during all that," Greg continued, smile getting even wider. "At least you guys caught the Undersiders, though."

'He thinks they caught them?' Shadow Stalker smiled under her mask.

"Who told you that?", she scoffed. "That's not what happened at all."

"What do you mean?" Greg replied, his eyes narrowing. Shadow Stalker's smile only increased at the sight of it.

Shadow Stalker shook her head. "What I mean is they didn't catch those fuckers. I can't tell you exactly what happened 'cause I wasn't there but I know that my team lost the fight. The Undersiders kicked their ass. Didn't even take them five minutes from what I heard."

Greg clenched both his fists. "So, they...escaped?", he said under his breath, his jaw clenched tightly.

Despite his lowered tone, Shadow Stalker heard him and continued, speaking slowly. "Yeah, they escaped. It's fucking stupid that they couldn't stop them. I had no idea what the Wards were doing. How do you fuck up like that? I mean, I've had half of them on the defensive before by myself. Sucks that they tried to kill you, though. Then they get away with all the money too. It's just...just...stu..."

Shadow Stalker stumbled over her words as her body suddenly locked up, preventing her from finishing her sentence. As soon as the paralytic sensation appeared, it faded and she could move again, albeit with some difficulty. Her breath hitched as the entire room became unbearably hot, choking her in her thick, black costume. The air felt so thick that it might as well have been water and she was almost drowning in it, her lungs struggling for air. What was going on?

She didn't understand what was happening to her. Was someone attacking the PRT? Were was the alarm? Why wasn't anyone doing something?

She looked up at Greg, trying to get his attention, and gasped.

Greg had vanished from the room.

In his place was a monster out for her blood. The thing loomed above her and she shuddered as she caught sight of it's eyes. Glowing red pinpricks of light shone down on her and she couldn't help but gasp. It's muscles were obviously powerful, strong enough to rip her apart. It didn't speak but she could practically hear it's thoughts.

 **You are going to die.**

She scrambled backwards until her back was against the wall, her eyes wide.  
 **  
I am going to kill you.  
**  
She couldn't die here! Not like this!

 **You are weak.**

She wasn't weak! She wasn't prey.  
 **  
You can't stop me.  
**  
Shadow Stalker lifted her crossbow with one shaking hand, the other grasping at her side for her bolts. She raised one to her crossbow before she realized what she was about to do. She nearly screamed in frustration, dropping the bolt to the floor. What was she doing? This thing was a Brute! It could brush off bullets. What was her tranquilizer bolt going to do to it?  
 **  
Nothing can stop me.**

Blood drained from her face as the thing's eyes locked with hers and she clung to her crossbow as if it was a shield. She didn't want to die. She was strong! She was a predator! This couldn't be it! Shadow Stalker closed her eyes as the thing began to walk toward her, it's red eyes locked on her. 'Nononononononononononono...'

"You okay? Shadow Stalker?"

She opened her eyes, blinking in surprise. She could breathe again. 'What the hell?' In place of the monster, Greg stood in front of her, blue eyes focused on her and a confused expression plastered on his face. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for where the thing could have gone to. 'Where did it...' her eyes landed on Greg and they nearly bulged out of her head as she realized something. 'Greg?'

Shadow Stalker nodded. There was no way she was going to look weak. "Umm...yeah, I'm fine. Just a...headache," she replied, her voice suddenly hoarse. Beads of sweat ran down her face underneath her mask, getting in her eyes and making her blink.

He gave her an odd look and seemed to be thinking about something for a minute before shrugging. "Okay...I guess. Anything else you want to talk about, Shadow Stalker?"

Shadow Stalker nodded slowly, still watching the blonde carefully. Piggot wanted him to get tested and she had to convince him. Now, how was she going to do that? She couldn't let him out of her sight or he might change into...that thing again. "Yeah, I wanted to see if you wanted to use our testing area."

"Testing area?" Greg replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the PRT likes to...uh...help new capes find out what they can really do, you know. How strong you are, how fast, how tough. Put numbers on shit like that."

Greg stared at her for a few seconds, not breaking eye contact, his face completely blank. She really was not enjoying that. Her memories of what he had turned into were still fresh in her mind and the thought that he may try to kill her was terrifying enough. Now, the pictures of what he had done to Lung were popping up in her head.

"Hmm...Okay."

She blinked, somewhat confused as to what he was talking about. "Okay, you'll do it?"

Greg nodded, smiling brightly. "Yepparoo, lead the way."

Shadow Stalker blinked rapidly, exasperation bringing a frown to her face. 'Yepparoo?' The disconnect between the idiot on top and the...thing...hiding inside of Greg was too much. Which one was the real one? She had seen him angry. She felt like giving up immediately and just letting him kill her. She just couldn't reconcile her feelings of fear with this...this...moron. She didn't understand it at all. How could he have power like that and still be such a...a...wimp? Maybe he wasn't really this stupid. Maybe...maybe...

Shadow Stalker felt a cold chill run down her spine as a thought popped into her head. She had seen what he had done to Lung. She had seen what he had done to Glory Girl. Maybe...he wasn't really stupid. She had seen the rage on his face in person twice now and ,for the first time, had felt that murderous sensation coming off him in waves, choking the life out of her. What if he was really like that and he was just playing around? It would be an easy way to make people underestimate him, making sure everyone dropped their guards around him.

Shadow Stalker looked up at him, quickly making eye contact before turning away. "The...uh...testing lab is this way. Just follow me."

Greg stepped forward before his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, wait a sec."

Shadow Stalker paused and watched as he walked back to the bed and picked up a black and white smartphone. "Okay, I'm good. Lead the way," he spoke again, flashing her another smile.

Shadow Stalker turned around quickly and walked out of the room and into the long white hallway, Greg right by her side. She did her best to avoid contact with the blonde Brute. That experience had taught her a lesson that she wouldn't soon forget. Frankly, she just couldn't wrap her mind around it. 'Was all of that real?' she thought to herself. Glancing to her side, she noticed Greg looking at her and she flinched, once again glad that her mask covered her entire face.

"Hey, Stalker. How strong do you think I am? Like, how much do you think I can lift?" he said, self-confidence almost oozing from him.

She shrugged, unsure of what to say. "I dunno...a couple tons."

Greg grinned and she got a closer look at his extremely white teeth. "Last I checked, it was five tons...but honestly?" he paused, raising his right arm and flexing it proudly. "I think I'm at least double that by now and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get stronger too."

Shadow Stalker flinched again. "T-ten tons, huh? That's a lot."

Greg nodded, oblivious to her nervousness. "Yeah, It's like one of those semi-trucks. Eventually, when I get strong enough, I'm gonna clean up the whole city. Clear all the criminals out. And I'll make sure Brockton Bay is safe, like a real hero." He pumped a fist in the air proudly. "I'm not gonna let any villains get in my way either. Nothing's gonna stop me."

Shadow Stalker let out a small gasp as a memory of an implacable monster rose to the front of her mind. **'Nothing can stop me.'**

That clinched it. She was completely out of her depths with this guy. Coming down here, she had expected to be talking to a predator, someone she stood on equal ground with, someone who understood where she was coming from. Frankly, she would have been fine if he had just been a bigger predator than she was, something she wasn't used to but she could deal with that, at least. She just wanted someone like her. With this, though, she was unsure of what to think.

She couldn't deal with Greg Veder. He was as far above her as she was above someone like Hebert.

Shadow Stalker was a predator and she was damn proud of it, but Greg Veder?

Greg Veder was a complete fucking monster and he scared the living shit out of her.

And to make it even worse? She fucking loved it! 


	34. Complications 2-9A

Complications 2.9A

"Hello, Mr. Veder, are you ready to proceed with the strength testing?," came a female voice over the speakers.

Frowning, Greg's barely-there eyebrows bunched up in irritation. "Yeah, sure. How's this thing supposed to work again?" Greg asked, raising his encumbered hands. His arms and feet were currently attached to several bulky manacles, all of which were connected to a rather large mechanism around him that was built out of the wall. Straps were also wrapped around his bare chest as well, for some reason, while a large treadmill track lay beneath his feet. When he had gotten to the large testing room, Shadow Stalker had approached a PRT agent and informed him that he was here for a "Classification Correction" or something. Then, several agents had lead him into the room and a couple of lab-coated dudes had confused him with a bunch of sciency-words and strapped him into this thing. Frankly, it had all happened pretty quickly and he could barely get a word in edgewise. He didn't even know where Shadow Stalker had dissapeared to.

"This stuff doesn't seem all that strong either." Greg didn't really understand how this was supposed to do anything. He could move just fine with it on and it didn't seem to be bothering him at all. "I mean, you sure this won't break?"

"I am completely certain, Mr. Veder," replied the voice with more than a hint of irritation. "This equipment was designed for Brutes far stronger than you. Regardless of how strong you may think you are, you will not break it," she finished, a German accent bleeding into the final sentence.

Shrugging in acceptance, Greg settled back into the machinery, the devices whirring as he moved slightly backwards. "Okay, sure, I guess. Are we doing this now?" he asked, looking up at the glass enclosure where a group of about four scientists were observing him from.

"One moment, Mr. Veder," The voice intoned. A few seconds later, a woman stepped to the front of the window, holding some sort of tablet in her hands. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a neat bun and she was dressed in a buttoned up lab coat with green trim around the shoulders and a green turtleneck underneath. Her face was set in a blank expression that somehow made her look more intimidating than if she was frowning. "My name is Doctor Vahlen and as the Head of the Protectorate's Power Research Division, I will be in charge of your testing session for today. Do you have any questions before we begin?"

Greg raised an eyebrow in thought for a few seconds before nodding. "Yeah, how do these things work?"

Dr. Vahlen tilted her head as her expression became slightly less austere. "Ah, interested in the technology, Mr. Veder? Well, as it was made by a Tinker, I can not tell you exactly how it works but it essentially runs on roughly the same principle of a..."

"Actually, Dr. Vahlen," Greg interrupted, a sheepish expression on his face. "No offense, but I wasn't talking about the machine."

Greg continued speaking, oblivious to the icy glare Dr. Vahlen was shooting down on him. "I mean, not that it's not cool or anything. It's Tinker-stuff, so it's definitely cool, you know. What I meant...when I asked the question, how do these things work, I was talking about stuff like; how long is this going to take, why do i have to be in my underwear for this..."

Dr. Vahlen rubbed the bridge of her nose and let out a slow breath. "Well, those are all...valid que-" Dr. Vahlen cut herself off as Greg interrupted her once again, as he wasn't done speaking.

"...do you guys happen to have any shirts laying around? Preferably V-necks, that a Brute could wear without a wardrobe malfunction?"

"We don-"

"Also, are snacks gonna come into the equation at any point in time during this whole thing? Cause I'd love like a burger or wait...Egg salad! Do you guys have Egg salad? I'd love an Egg salad sandwich..."

"Gottverdammt, would you shu-"

"...cause you have no idea how hungry I am. Fighting really works up an appetite and I lost an arm too so I kinda need some comfort food really bad. Oh, and like, drinks too? What drinks do you guys have here? I like Jolt Cola or Pepsi Blue but I'll take a Mr. Pibb, if you have that. No Orbitz, though. I hate that crap," Greg finished, concluding his rambling and smiling up at the furiously frowning German woman.

The woman in question was gripping tightly to her tablet, tightly enough that Greg worried she would break it. Her breathing was heavy and ragged while left eye seemed to be twitching rapidly and she was muttering under her breath in another language, probably German. The other white-coats apparently took all that as a sign, slowly easing away from her.

Greg saw this, but he decided that it probably wasn't a big deal. Besides, he really wanted to know about the snack situation. "Uh, Dr. Vahlen, so is that a yes or-"

" **Halt die Klapp, du ärgerlich kleine Göre! Was ist ihr Problem?** ," screamed Dr. Vahlen over the speakers, apparently uncaring that her mic was still on **.** The other scientists groaned under the loud noise and a few covered their ears as the irate German continued to scream. Greg, his ears far more sensitive than theirs, wished he could do the same as the equipment he was currently strapped into limited his range of motion. **"Hat ihre Mutter Ihnen auf dem Kopf wie ein Kind fallen lassen? schließen Sie einfach Bumsen und lassen Sie mich meine Arbeit machen!"**

As her screams settled down to a furious muttering, she was gently moved aside by two of the white coats and an older, balding Asian man with a pair of glasses perched on his nose stepped forward. Affixing a small black device to his coat, he pressed a button on it and began to speak. "Hello, Mr. Veder, my name is Dr. Raymond Shen. I'm the PRT's Chief Scientist and I'll be handling your testing while Dr. Vahlen...uh..., "the man looked over his shoulder to where the woman was making furious attempts to crush her tablet, "...relaxes. Regarding your questions; you'll be here no longer than an hour, you need to be mostly unclothed because certain sensors are attached to your bare skin, and we do not have any shirts or clothing in general designed to be worn by Brutes without...wardrobe malfunction, sorry. Well, none that we're at liberty to give out, at least."

Greg waved off his apology. "No problem."

"However, I know for a fact that there is both Mr. Pibb and plenty of Egg Salad in the cafeteria and it is delicious. I should know. I've had plenty of them," the old man continued with a smile, patting his prodigious belly. "I'll send someone to bring you some after the testing, if that's alright with you."

"That sounds great, Doctor."

Shen chuckled heartily. "Please, call me Raymond. With all the Doctors running around here, it can get a bit confusing."

"No problem, Raymond," Greg replied, still smiling. This scientist seemed much nicer than the other one. He actually smiled, for one. Dr. Vahlen seemed to be a good deal more high strung, for some reason.

"Okay, Mr. Veder, When the machine powers on, you will feel a slight tug. In order for us to get an accurate reading, I need you to continue moving forward."

Giving the scientist a thumbs up, Greg steadied himself for the machine.

"Five...Four...Three...Two...One...Begin."

The gentle whirring of the mechanism began to get progressively louder while a gentle humming grew under it. Greg began to move forward and the treadmill under his feet began to move with him, keeping him mostly stationary. 'This is easy,' Greg thought to himself, 'Not too bad, at...huh.' Greg paused his thought as a slight sudden pull of pressure on his muscles forced him to increase the force his muscles were exerting. 'I guess that was the tug Raymond was talking about, then.'

"Okay, Mr. Veder, the machine will now start to increase the level of resistance. You should feel a light tug any moment now," Shen said over the speakers, his voice barely audible over the loud hum of the mechanisms below.

Greg blinked. "Wait, whaAAAAAAGHHH-" Greg was unable to finish his sentence as a sudden, sharp pull from the machine nearly sent him sprawling, and causing him to lose his balance. As he scrambled to steady himself, he began to push himself forward, ignoring the increased weight. 'Fuck that, a light tug? Who the fuck designed this thing?'

Shaking his head, he just kept moving. "Whatever."

"Incredible," remarked Dr. Shen, as he monitored the boy's vitals on the screen in front of him. "Over fifteen minutes of exertion and nothing to show for it."

"What is it, Raymond?"

Dr. Shen turned his gaze to the group behind him, unable to be seen from the testing area below. Miss Militia, Clockblocker, Shadow Stalker, Vista and Aegis stood behind him, watching the footage of Greg's testing. Well, some of them sat. And technically, Aegis was floating. Regardless of their physical positions, all of them were paying attention.

Raymond smiled at the group, before focusing his gaze on Miss Militia. Idly, he noticed that she had a rather large weapon at her side, some form of rocket launcher, perhaps? Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he prepated to answer her question. "He's currently moving forward despite being burdened with 2 tons of resistance."

Aegis floated forward, glancing at the screen that Dr. Shen had been focused on. "I don't see what's so incredible about that. I did the same when I used the machine."

Nodding, Director Shen gestured towards the screen, drawing Aegis' attention to a silhouette of the human body. The silhouette was filled in with blue and had several circles located around multiple areas of the body; primarily the head, heart, and joints. "The similarities between the two of you don't end there. He hasn't shown any sign that he's actually exerting himself. While yours seemed geared to survive at all costs, his body seems to be able to operate at optimum condition regardless of exhaustion. He could literally keep this up all day, similar to what you did when we tested you. In fact..."

Dr. Shen paused and pressed a button on the microphone he had clipped to his lapel, turning on the PA. "Mr. Veder, are you feeling any discomfort right now?"

"No, I'm good!"

"That's excellent. Now, I'm going to increase the amount of resistance. Is that alright with you?"

"Go ahead!"

Turning the mic off, Dr. Shen turned to his left where several more white-coats were taking detailed notes and discussing various matters in hushed tones. Pointing to a blonde male and a female with dyed blue hair, he gave them a set of orders. "Ducky, raise the resistance to six tons. Nova, activate the scanner. Lily, prepare the hydraulic press." As the three lab techs broke off from the larger group to do as the good doctor asked, he turned back to the gathered heroes. "Now, we see what he can really do."

With a call of "Six Tons, Dr. Shen!" from the lab tech known as Ducky, he nodded at the young man and turned on his mic once again. "Okay, Mr. Veder, you'll notice a slight increase in weight."

"Got ya, Raymond!" was the loud response from below.

"Slight?" asked Vista, her lips pursed in a confused expression. "How is four tons slight? Didn't you just triple the weight?"

Raymond chuckled, raising a hand to steady his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Well, I say slight because I want to get a good feel for his limits. If I tell him exactly how much weight he's pulling, he might not give it his all for whatever reason. It's all for the purpose of collecting accurate data." The screen let out a slight beeping as if to underscore his point, drawing his attention to it. "Still, not even a trace of sweat on his skin, not much of an increase in blood flow or heart rate. He's not even breathing heavy!"

"I can see what you mean, Dr. Shen," Aegis spoke up, "I don't think I could even move six tons."

Clockblocker walked up and stretched an arm upwards to pat Aegis on the back. "Ah, don't worry about it, boss. You'll always be the best Brute in my book."

Even though his face was hidden, the warmth in Aegis' voice was audible in his tone. "Thanks, Clock."

However, Clockblocker wasn't done. "I mean, come on, we're all squishy people here. What'd we do without a team Meatshield? "

Even though his face was hidden, the iciness in Aegis' voice was audible in his tone. "Thanks, Clock."

"You're welcome, buddy," Clockblocker replied. "So, Ray, what's up with...eh...Blond Skrillex?" Clockblocker paused for a moment as if in thought. "Why not? What's up with Blond Skrillex down there? He doesn't even look tired yet."

Dr. Shen glanced at Greg's vitals, apparently gleaning some meaning from the rapidly changing stream of words and numbers. "You're right, Clockblocker." Taking a moment to turn on the mic once again, the doctor spoke. "Mr. Veder, we're set to increase the resistance. Do you think you could handle a little more weight?"

"Sure, Raymond. Ramp this baby up! This is so light, you can even double it!"

Turning off his mic, Ray turned to his lab tech on the far wall of the Observation Center. "Isn't he an eager lad? Let's do him one better. Ducky, three times the weight!"

"WAIT!"

Everyone in the room turned to glance at Clockblocker as he screamed for no apparent reason. The young cape had his arms up in the air and as he realized that all eyes were on him, he brought his hands down and steepled them on his chest. "Why stop at three? You heard the rookie! Ramp that sucker up! Give him five times the weight! He can take it! He's a dragon sl-OW! What was that for?" exclaimed Clockblocker, turning to face Vista as he rubbed his shoulder.

The girl in question was glaring at her teammate from behind her visor from several feet away, scowling at his antics. After getting beat up and generally being subjected to swarms of insects, blinding darkness, tentacles and a pack of giant killer dogs, Vista was not in the happy-go lucky frame of mind that usually came naturally to her. "Stop being stupid and let the scientists do their jobs, dummy! We're in the middle of something serious and you're being all...oh "

The small girl paused her tirade as Miss Militia laid a hand firmly on her shoulder. "Vista, that is not how we speak to our teammates."

Vista sighed, letting out a small breath of air and almost sinking into her chair. "Understood, ma'am."

"I know that today had been rather stressful for you but you have to understand that regardless of how we may feel about certain actions they may take, we should have more respect for each other and ourselves by...Did you have something to add, Shadow Stalker?" Miss Militia's voice became much sharper as she addressed the dark huntress, who had chosen to scoff while she spoke to Vista. At her side, the RPG morphed into something resembling a Bowie knife.

Shadow Stalker didn't bother to respond, simply shaking her head as she kept her eyes firmly locked on Greg below.

Her eyes narrowing at the former vigilante, she turned back to face the subject of Vista's ire. "And Clockblocker, there is a time and a place for your jokes. Right now is not that time. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Actually," interjected Dr. Shen with a slight chuckle, "I believe Clockblocker is right in this case."

"HE IS?" questioned Vista and Aegis simultaneously.

"HE IS? I mean...I am?" replied Clockblocker. "I mean, yeah, I am!"

Unlike the Wards, Miss Militia was able to contain her surprise at the doctor's words, simply raising an eyebrow at his statement. "He is?"

The old man's eyes seemed to twinkle with a hint of mischief that belonged to someone at least a third of his age. "He is. I seem to have let it slip my mind that this young man fought the marvelous specimen of parahuman ability we have down in the holding cells. In close quarters combat, no less. Someone strong enough to damage a parahuman with that level of durability should be able to handle at least..." the doctor trailed off as he began to mumble under his breath, doing rapid mental calculations. "Ducky!"

The lab assistant stood at attention. "Yes, Doctor Shen!"

"Ten times the resistance!"

The blonde lab technician blinked, spluttering rapidly. "T-t-ten times? Y-yes, Doctor."

Shen walked closer to the glass, a slight smile on his face. That smile quickly dropped away as Greg stopped his forward movement, grunting and groaning as he was unable to move his hands and feet inside the manacles that enclosed them.

Aegis floated forward, as close to the glass as Shen was. "At least now we know what his limit is," he said, a sense of relief in his tone.

"No, we don't," Shadow Stalker replied softly. Vista and Miss Militia both gave her a questioning glance but she ignored them, walking up to the glass next to Aegis.

Clockblocker followed her lead, standing next to his black-clad teammate with his hands clasped behind his back. "So why are we all just standing at the window like this? Like, is there a reason...or just because?"

No one answered him.

Dr. Shen frowned, shaking his head in confusion as he watched Greg straining to move. "I would have thought he was capable of so much more..." Pressing the mic, he spoke up. "Mr. Veder, it appears that we've found your limit. I had assumed you were much stronger than this but it appears I was mistaken. Are you ready to move on the next test?"

"No...way...I...got...THIS!" Greg grunted. With a pulse of golden light, an aura settled around him and he began to run smoothly on the machine, moving even faster than he was before. "Come on, is this all you got?"

"Told you,"Shadow Stalker replied smugly, folding her arms over her chest.

The tablet in Shen's hands beeped a few times and Dr. Shen looked to see the same silhouette he had been studying before. Several circles around the silhouette body had turned a light pink, alerting him that something of importance was occurring.

"Come on, I could do this all day!" came Greg's gleeful shout.

"Not anymore, Mr. Veder, not...any...more. However, we'll see if we can fix that," intoned Raymond Shen under his breath, his voice much more somber and reserved than it had been before. "Regardless," Dr. Shen's smile returned in full force and he glanced at his lab assistant once again. "Ducky...double the resistance."


	35. Complications 2-9B

Complications 2.9B

Velocity walked next to Dauntless and Assault, fingers twitching and shifting rapidly over a rather worn out Rubik's cube, wondering exactly why Piggot sent them down to the Testing Center. No, that wasn't true. He knew exactly why she was calling them, to see that kid, the one that had almost turned Lung into a vegetable. He just didn't understand why she had to call **them** down. Why not Triumph or Battery, as well? The two of them weren't even busy. Frankly, he had been in the weight room trying to bulk up a little bit, in the hope that it would augment the little physical power he had when he ran. He didn't have time to waste on watching some new hotshot show off.

Assault and Dauntless were a different story as they seemed pumped to head down there. Then again, that did seem to be their normal state of mind.

"Eh, so what'd you guys think about the kid?" Assault questioned, his tone nonchalant.

"He seems okay," replied Dauntless with a shrug. "I mean, he's a little bit...off, but then again, what cape isn't?"

Assault snorted. "Yeah, a little bit off is kind of an understatement. I mean, did you see the way he fought Glory Girl? Kid was laughing his ass off while getting his face smashed in."

Chuckling, Dauntless clapped Assault on the back, his powerful hands causing the less muscular hero to stumble a bit. "And that haircut? I know Lung burned him but he could at least shave it off and start clean."

"You sure about that? What are people gonna say when the newest blonde and blue eyed cape shaves his head? Huh?" Assault joked.

"Seriously, Ethan? I'm pretty sure that ship sailed when he named himself Superior," replied Dauntless, still chuckling. "Besides, you never know, the E88 might follow his lead. Change their ways, you know."

Assault let out a loud cackle, his mouth open in a wide grin. "Are you kidding me, Cal? Kaiser and Hookwolf turning the E88 into heroes? What would they even call themselves? The Brockton Nazi Brigade? Kaiser'll probably have to change his name, though. How's...Ubermensch sound? Too on the nose?"

Dauntless laughed again, a deep sound that matched his large frame. "I prefer Tin Tyrant myself."

Underneath his mask, Robin could not help but frown as Ethan and Calvin joked around. As a member of the Protectorate East North East, he had come to understand that there were two hierarchies among the heroes. One of them was official, imposed by Piggot and had Armsmaster at the head; followed by Miss Militia with Triumph, the most recent member of the Protectorate, at the very bottom.

The other was unspoken, one of those stupid 'unofficial' rules that people take semi-seriously. Regardless of how 'unofficial' it was, everyone in the Protectorate knew it and respected it, to a certain degree. Hell, even some civilians knew it. The second hierarchy, based purely on how powerful you were, had Dauntless, the rising star of the Protectorate, at the very top, followed by Assault, then Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Triumph, Battery, and lastly, himself. Velocity had been excited when Dauntless had appeared and he had borne the hope that he wouldn't be at the bottom of the totem pole anymore. That hope had dissapeared quickly once he found out the specifics of Dauntless' power. It was a known fact that Dauntless was headed for the same tier as the Triumvirate and all that was holding him back was time. Eventually, Dauntless would be an unstoppable combination of Alexandria and Eidolon, replacing Hero in the eyes of the people. It was no wonder Armsmaster couldn't stand him.

"Purity as a hero? Man, Cal, you're ridiculous!" Assault burst out, clutching his stomach as he laughed.

Robin turned his attention to Assault, the next highest on the ladder. Ethan had been a member of the Protectorate for years now, ever since Battery captured him in New York when he was still running around as the villain known as Madcap. Frankly, the experience had been seared into his memory, mostly because of how ridiculously funny it had been. Battery had walked into the PRT with Madcap in tow, containment foam still keeping him trapped. As soon as he had been de-foamed, he turned to face Director Wilkins and before she could say anything, spouting off his secret identity, social security and for some reason, his measurements, before the woman could even get a word out. He had then followed it up by winking at the Director and asking if he had any job openings for a 'handsome, sexy villain looking to change his ways'. The look on Wilkins's face had been worth the chewing out he had gotten for laughing.

Battery had been overjoyed that she had finally caught Madcap that she hadn't even thought about how oddly easy the fight had been. First of all, Ethan was a Striker 7, with all that entailed. He had fought off an entire team of heroes backed up by multiple PRT squads several times before Battery had ever even appeared on the cape scene. He had more power, more experience and frankly more skill than Battery ever possibly had. Footage of his fights as Madcap were available and as required by the Protectorate, he had watched them several times to familiarize himself with how he fought. As Madcap, he fought like his name implied. Debris, weaponry and any available item would strike you with incredible force, appearing in front of you every time you blinked, while he would be jumping around the battlefield like a rabbit, using his powers to give himself a Mover rating. Anyone fighting him at close range would find their clothes or armor going wild, propelling them away from him and sending them flying. A ranged cape or PRT agent aiming at him would find something striking a joint, sending their shots wide and if he felt vindictive or particularly malicious, breaking a limb. Cars, trash cans or dumpsters became lethal projectiles from the slightest touch. Rumor had it that he had even caught bullets in his palm with his telekinesis. Frankly, the PRT was just glad that he was more a mercenary specializing in breakouts than anything else.

To make matters short, Madcap had been hell on the PRT, winning fights against several parahumans with ease. That changed shortly after Battery had started gunning for him. Madcap slowly became less malicious, occasionally going out of his way to avoid hurting capes in his fights. That was only when Battery was on the scene, though. On the rare occasions that the Breaker didn't make an appearance, Madcap was as quick and dirty as he had been in the past. The final fight with Battery had almost been a parody of a fight, at least on Ethan's part.

He and Battery had actually been on patrol with Legend back in New York when they stumbled upon Madcap simply standing in the middle of an alley, in full costume, as if he was waiting for someone. As odd as that had been, Battery didn't even think twice before rushing in. He had hung back, trying to avoid Madcap's barrage of debris and small weaponry against him while Legend provided suppression fire to assist Battery, when he noticed something especially odd. The instant Madcap spotted enemy capes, they would immediately be bombarded by dozens of high-speed marbles or whatever else he carried on his person, effectively pinning them down, while the dust at his feet would fly into their eyes, blinding them if they didn't have a visor or full face mask. While he was effectively kept away from the fight, and Legend was rather high in the air, Battery had none of that aimed at her at all. In fact, she was fighting him in close quarters...and winning. Madcap was virtually unstoppable at hand to hand and nearly untouchable with his powers but oddly, not during that fight.

With time slowed down for him, Velocity could see the hesitance in Madcap's movement, his punches pulled and his movements purposely made more predictable. The fight ended in minutes, resulting with Ethan in handcuffs and containment foam while Battery had a victorious smile on her face as Legend praised her. From his eyes alone, though, Velocity could tell that Madcap was not at all angry about being captured. As Assault, Ethan couldn't afford to be as dangerous as Madcap had been but that mocking smirk reminded Velocity that underneath the hero, Madcap was still there, and he would be just as dangerous as he always had been. It eventually took a transfer to Brockton Bay before he and Ethan started to become actual friends. When Velocity had asked Ethan why he let Battery catch him, Ethan had laughed, remarking that 'I was having an off day, you know'. The smug smile he said it with had implied otherwise, however.

Frankly, Dauntless and Velocity were probably the strongest members of the Protectorate as they were. As Velocity, he was fast, sure, but that was it. Fast was all he was. The faster he went, the weaker he got until a punch from him at top speed felt like a child's palm slapping you in the face. He couldn't even carry items on his person once he got past a certain speed. At best, he was a scout. At worst, he was barely even a distraction. His powers were pathetic and every one else knew it. 'A fucking one trick pony.'

Sometimes, he felt more than a bit resentful of his friends for outshining him so easily that they didn't even realize that they were doing it. He had worked hard to gain what little respect he had and he was being pushed to the side without a second thought. I mean, never did he ever think that he would actually be able to empathize with Armsmaster, of all people. Sometimes, he felt that it would just be easier to-

"Yo, Rob!"

"Wha?" Velocity jerked backwards, surprised as Assault stopped directly in front of him.

"We're here already. You've just been staring into space," Dauntless told him, arms folded on his chest. Velocity glanced past him, noticing the large blast doors and the two burly PRT agents standing guard in full body armor.

"I-I guess I was thinking about something else," Velocity replied.

Assault's smirk seemed to perk up a bit, stopping just short of becoming a full grin. "You think, bud? You've solved, unsolved and solved that thing again," he remarked, gesturing at Velocity's hands.

Glancing down at his palms, Velocity realized that Assault was right, a solved Rubiks cube sitting on his palm.

Dauntless gave him a concerned look, irritating Velocity a bit. A small whisper in the back of his mind told him that it looked a bit too much like pity on his friend's face. "Rob, you okay, buddy? You've been really quiet, man."

Velocity sighed and kept on walking. "I'm fine. Let's just see the kid test and get out of here." Facing the guards, he gestured at the door. "Well, are you going to open the damn thing or do I have to do it myself?" Velocity asked brusquely, pulling out his Protectorate keycard.

The guard's faces couldn't be seen behind their black full-face visors but they visibly bristled under Assault's harsh tone. For a moment, neither did anything until one of them turned to his side and slid a key card into the wall next to him. A second later, the door slid open, allowing the three men to enter the room.

The Observation room was the same as it always was; bright white walls, floor to ceiling observation window, and various desks, screens and control panels all over the place. The only difference was how unusually crowded the room seemed to be with several lab techs running around, including the most experienced; Charles "Ducky" Mallard, Maria "Nova" Villanueva, and Lillian "Lily" Shen, hard at work manning several control panels.

Almost immediately, the three capes caught sight of Dr. Shen, one of the more jovial members of the PRT Research Department, surrounded by Miss Militia and most of the Wards. The second they entered, Dr. Shen looked up and flashed the three of them a big smile while Miss Militia simply nodded at them.

"What up, Doc?" Assault spoke up, raising one hand in greeting.

"Ah, hello, Assault. How are you today?" replied the Doctor with a bright smile.

"Just fine, Ray."

Shen turned to Dauntless, still smiling. "Dauntless, how is your 'Arc Spear' coming along? Any further progress?"

Dauntless sighed and shook his head. "Actually, Dr, I've been using another spear for most of my fights. My first one is a bit too lethal for anyone that's not a tough Brute. I've been using the one I have with me right now for about a month," Dauntless said, gesturing to the weapon on his back, " and it's got some small Breaker and Striker skills already. I know it's not much but I gotta work with what I got for now, you know. It's my fault for not paying attention to how many charges I put into it."

Velocity grimaced as he heard Dauntless humblebrag, hand tightening around the cube. He knew Calvin didn't even realize what he was doing, the burly cape so used to his overpowered abilities, but it still irked him to no end. Dauntless didn't have to do much at all to improve, simply waiting a day to dump energy into an object. Every single time Velocity saw Dauntless, the cape was visibly more powerful and it physically pained him to see Dauntless having it so easy.

"Ah, good, good, at least you're improving," Shen nodded, before finally turning to Velocity. "So, Velocity, how are you? Any new developments?"

"No Dr. Shen, just the same," Velocity replied, tone somewhat bitter.

For a moment, Assault's smile dimmed as he glanced at Velocity, worrying the speedster that his friend might be aware of his true feelings. Fortunately, Assault turned away from his teammate and looked around the room before glancing back at Shen. "Hey, doc, Is Vahlen around?"

"Yeah, she's around. Probably around here screaming at something in German," Clockblocker snorted as he tried to hold back a chuckle, receiving a glare from Miss Militia that made him stop immediately.

Aegis shook his head. "Dr. Vahlen went somewhere. I don't know where exactly, though."

"Ah, well, Herr Doktor," began Shen, mimicking the woman's form of adress, "is relaxing right now. She had a bit of an outburst with our new friend down there. He apparently pushes a lot of the same buttons that Clockblocker does."

Dauntless blinked in surprise. "Really?"

Shen nodded slowly. "I wouldn't hold it against her, though, She's been rather busy trying to understand what happened to Lung and exactly what his new abilities are that I doubt she's slept since Monday. I know for a fact that she hasn't left the PRT building at all. I don't understand how she believes she will function like that but," he paused, letting out a sigh, "you know Vahlen."

"Yeah, I do know Vahlen," Assault replied, grimacing. "That woman loves to test until you feel more like a lab rat than anything else."

Shen raised an eyebrow at Assault's remark but nodded, regardless. "I suppose she does have a tendency to rub some people the wrong way. It's just her strong personality. I assure you she's much more personable when she's not at work."

Aegis tilted his head slightly. " But, Dr. Shen, isn't she always...at work? It's like she never leaves."

Shen nodded again, a bit more hesitantly. "Ah, well, yes...let's get back to our young cape, shall we?"

The doctor walked back over to the window where the rest of the capes were still standing and the three men followed behind him. The second they reached the window, the capes stared as they saw the boy running on a rather large treadmill below.

His body shining with a golden light, Superior ran incredibly fast on the track below. Despite the fact that his arms and legs were moving rapidly enough that they were literally blurs, he didn't seem in the least tired. His mouth was spread open in a wide grin, showing his intense glee at simply being able to run.

"Man, look at him go! That kid can move, can't he, Doc? I mean, how fast is he going?" Assault said, laughing at the sight.

Dr. Shen gestured to the screen in front of him displaying a number in the triple digits. "The boy's top speed seems to top off here with some slight fluctuation up or down. Incredible, isn't he?" spoke Shen, his voice seeming to carry despite it's low tone. "As a Brute, his body enables him to keep this sort of speed without requiring any sort of Breaker abilities. Simply incredible."

Assault let out a low whistle, somewhat impressed by the boy's power. "So, what do you think, Velocity?", Assault asked his friend. "Velocity?"

When no response came, Assault turned around only to see Velocity on the other side of the room, entering his keycard into the door. "Where are you going, man?" called out Assault, hurriedly running out the open door to catch up to Velocity. Dauntless followed right behind him and the door slowly shut behind them, while Aegis, Clockblocker and Miss Militia looked on in confusion. Shadow Stalker, Vista and Dr. Shen were too busy observing to really notice or care.

Velocity turned around to glance at Assault, his fists clenched tightly. "I've got stuff to do. I don't have time to watch some kid test."

"What's wrong, man? You've been acting all weird," Assault asked.

"I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. Just drop it," Velocity replied, tone clipped.

"Look, man, you can talk to us. Just tell us what it is. We've got your back, man. We're here for you," Dauntless replied, tone soft and almost pleading.

Velocity stepped back, his muscles tensed as he stared at Dauntless from behind his visor. Moments passed where neither of them said a thing, but Velocity finally spoke. "You know I hate it when you talk to me like that, right? I'm not one of your at-risk kids, Cal. Don't give me any of your counselor bullshit. I don't need your help and I definitely don't need your pity!" With that final outburst, Velocity activated his powers and sped away, his body little more than a blur.

Assault tilted his head to look at Dauntless, his familiar smirk gone from his face. "What the hell was that about?"

Dauntless shrugged. "I don't know. We should give him some space, though. I'm pretty sure he's not in a good place right now. He needs some time alone. If we keep trying to push him, he'll avoid us even more."

"I guess you're right," Assault replied, taking a swig from a red and black soda can.

Dauntless cocked his head, staring at Assault as he drank from the can. "Is that a Jolt Cola?"

At Assault's nod, Dauntless asked another question. "Have you had that this whole time?"

Assault shook his head. "No, I just snatched it up in the room. There's like a whole table full of them back there with some Mr. Pibb and Pepsi Blue. I'm pretty sure they're for us. I saw Aegis drinking a whole lot of them," Assault said, pointing down the hallway to the Observation room.

Dauntless gave one last look at the long hallway Velocity had vanished downwards before sighing and turning back towards the O.R. "Let's go get some more, then."

As they walked back to the Observation room, Assault glanced at Dauntless. "Hey, you like egg salad, right?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Well, you're in for a treat."

* * *

Greg stared at the large machine, wondering why anyone would build anything that looked like half a yo-yo.

"So, what am I doing here, Raymond?" he called out.

"This device will measure your lifting strength, as opposed to the previous one, which measured your resistance against forces. Just put your palms flat on that surface and hold it for as long as you possibly can," spoke Shen over the loudspeaker, "Just tell me when the weight begins to get too much for you to handle."

Greg felt an instinctual flare of indignation rise up in him at what he thought was a dig at his strength. However, it quickly tapered away when he realized Shen was only telling him that as a safety precaution. He didn't fully understand why, but the idea that someone was underestimating his abilities pissed him off more than a bit. "Understood."

"As soon as you put your palms on it, one of my lab technicians will turn on the machine. It is very important that you keep your palms on the machine until the test is over. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I got it." Greg walked up the steps to the machine, fully aware that he was being watched by at least a dozen scientists and half the heroes in the Protectorate. All of them watching him, and he was in nothing more than a pair of boxers. If he wasn't aware of everything that was happening, he would be worried that he was in the middle of his worst nightmare. He didn't mind as much as he thought he would have, though. He wasn't completely sure but something about having a body that you were proud of made you a lot less embarrassed in a situation like this. Still, there was nothing comfortable about your physical appearance being scrutinized by a thirteen year old girl and a grown woman the same age as his mom.

Greg stood in place and placed his palms upward on the very bottom of the device. As he got into position, he had the fleeting thought that he was like Atlas, holding up the sky. He was pulled out of his thoughts as his stomach rumbled loudly, the sound reminding him that he barely even ate breakfast. 'Not the time to think about Greek myths. Let's just get this over with.'

"All right, Mr. Veder, we're going to begin. In 5...4...3...2...1...Begin."

At Dr. Shen's signal, the machine began to emit a low hum and he Greg felt no discernible pressure on his palms. As time began to pass, that quickly began to change. After what felt like ten minutes but what was most likely one, his arms began to shake slightly, pressure beginning to weigh him down. He ignored it at first, continuing to push upwards. By the second minute, his legs were openly shaking and he was struggling to hold the continually growing weight above his head.

He pushed upwards, his muscles beginning to burn as he struggled to lift the device. 'Come on...you can do it. You can do it. Show them that you can do it!' Greg grit his teeth, forcing himself to push against the weight. 'I'm. NOT. WEAK. I'm not weak. Not weak...not weak...NOT! WEAK!'

Almost unbidden, he felt the familiar stimulating rush of Zirin spark up in his chest and bright golden light suffused his skin once again. All of a sudden, the crushing weight had vanished and he stood straight up, hands held high above his head. Almost completely naked, except for his briefs, he grinned up at the faces below watching him. "Yeah..."

* * *

Dr. Shen watched on in fascination as Greg nearly ate an egg salad sandwich in one bite, the Observation room vacant except for himself and Greg. Everyone had left at Shen's request because the good doctor wished to speak to Greg alone. As promised, the testing had not taken much longer than an hour. All in all, they had completed eight rounds of testing and they would have completed the ninth if Greg had actually been able to use his Master power on command. After a battery of tests, including; two durability tests, a Striker test, a Blaster test and a non-invasive full-body scan, Shen had decided to let the boy stop. Apart from some slight performance anxiety and a broken needle or five, the testing had gone rather well. As soon as it ended, Greg had immediately pounced on the table of food they had laid out for him. He nearly forgot to put on his jeans in the rush to sate his hunger.

Oddly, half the sandwiches seemed to be missing and more than a few sodas had vanished. Frankly, Shen blamed either Dauntless or Aegis. Dauntless had an appetites fit for at least three men and Aegis could eat nearly twice that of Dauntless. Shen shook his head as he watched Greg eat, adjusting his glasses slightly. Now was not the time to dwell on the appetites of other capes. Despite what he had told Greg, they were not quite done with his testing. He still had a few questions that could only be answered directly by Greg himself.

"Thanks for the food, Dr. Shen," Greg said with a gasp, finally coming up for air, "All that testing made me really hungry."

Shen gave the boy a slight smile, more out of amusement than any goodwill he may have had towards him. Simply watching the boy shovel food down his throat was like being front row for a circus act, even the slight nausea such a sight caused was all the more enjoyable for it. "It was no problem, Mr. Veder. I have to ask though, did you eat breakfast today or...lunch for that matter?" he added as an afterthought, watching Greg literally push a sandwich into his mouth. He didn't give a damn about the boy's eating habits, for the most part. While they would give him some data, this was a simple test question to gauge the boy's honesty. He needed to see Greg's body language.

Greg nodded his head, his mouth too full to give a coherent answer.

"So, what did you eat?"

Greg paused for a moment, grabbing hold of a blue can of soda and gulping it down. Shen waited for him to finish and was more than glad to see that Greg had the decency to not burp out loud. "Uh, I made some waffles, some donuts and french toast sticks. I only got to finish like half of them, though. But I finished all the sausages I made...and orange juice. Drank some O.J, too. Skipped lunch, though." His eyes suddenly brightened as if remembering something. "Oh, and a chocolate sandwich too. I had like two of those."

'Right handed. Eyes up and to the right...remembering what he made. Truth.' "A chocolate sandwich?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah, it's like this...You take some bread or a breakfast biscuit or two waffles, really...and then you put a bunch of chocolate syrup on the inside with like, a slice of ham and a sausage or two. Or no ham, if you want."

Dr. Shen stared at the boy in front of him for a moment as he finished describing what sounded like a rather disgusting concoction. "...Okay." He took a moment to enter that into his tablet. Despite the fact that he didn't really care, it was still useful data on his eating habits and caloric intake. "Now, when you say some, how many did you eat, exactly?"

"Mmm...I dunno, like eight waffles, five donuts, seven sticks and uh...twelve sausages."

'Up and to the right again.'

Shen took a moment to nod, not surprised by the amount. From what Aegis had told him, he ate almost as much every morning. "Good, good. So tell me, have you noticed an increase in your appetite since you were given your powers or is this how you always eat?"

Shaking his head, Greg swallowed another bite. "No, I eat a lot more now. I guess I need more fuel or something."

'Directly to the right, remembering sounds. Someone told him this.'

"So, how long has your appetite been like this?"

"A few weeks. Just under a month, I guess."

'True again.' Shen sat up in his chair and placed his tablet on his lap as Greg's messy eating led him to rip apart a few roast beef sandwiches, possibly growing tired of the egg salad. "So, tell me, Mr. Veder, what do you know about your powers? Tell me about them."

"Uhh...don't you already know all this? We tested all...well, almost all of them."

Dr. Shen chuckled softly. "Please, just humor me."

Greg shrugged. "Okay, I guess...I'm strong, fast. I'm pretty tough, too. When I need to, I can make myself stronger by pushing...energy into my body, I " he said, his smile getting positively smug as he listed off his abilities, "I can shoot beams and blasts from my hands but they're kinda dangerous to people. My beams cut through things and my blasts explode things. I have really sharp hand-knives that glow and...uh...I can make things harder and sharper...as long as they can fit in my hand, at least."

'Up and to the right again, although he stumbled and his eyes shifted directly to the left for a moment. Remembering something but stopped himself?' "And you weren't always at this level of physical ability?"

"No, when I got my powers, I could barely lift a couch up. The more I used them, the stronger they got. Except my Blaster powers, they just got more range."

"Interesting," Shen noted, "and your Master ability? How does that work?"

"I guess...it's like...when I get really angry," Greg raised a hand to his chest, unaware that he he also held a sandwich in that hand, "my chest starts to get real hot and it spreads all over, and then that energy makes it's way to my head and people start to get tense around me or they get really scared. My eyes go all red too, and my body heals faster."

"Ah..." Shen made sure to make a note of that, inputting the information into his tablet. Greg was comfortable and rather relaxed around Shen, the way he held himself made that obvious. Now, how best to use that? "So, Mr. Veder, how long have you had your powers?"

"...I...got them about a month ago. I...uh...triggered!" Greg began, his voice the same measure of hesitation and hurried speech often used when lying. "Yeah, I triggered when I was headed home and..."

'A slight pause, eyes looking up and to the left. About to lie.'

"...and I got mugged by a bunch of ABB. One of them pulled his knife out on me and I thought I was gonna die but then I grabbed his hand and punched him away. And then...and then all the rest ran off and I was all excited 'cause I had powers." He flashed Shen a smile, slightly awkward yet somehow confident at the same time. "That's how it went down."

'Lies. Everything he just said was a lie. And not even a good one.' Shen returned Greg's smile, though his was a bit more warm and honest than Greg's. That was quite a feat considering that he was forcing said smile. "Mr. Veder, give me one second."

Shen tapped a series of buttons on his tablet, sometimes just tapping the general area of the screen. He was well aware that all his tapping was doing nothing but the furious movement of his fingers gave the impression that he was doing something of importance. After nearly thirty seconds of furious tapping, he activated a setting on the device connected to the systems of the lab and sent the room into low power mode, dimming the lights and shutting down all the screens.

"What? What's this all about, Dr. Shen?" Greg shouted as he glanced around, confused.

Shen raised his hands in a calming gesture, trying to get the irritated young cape to relax. "Don't worry, Greg. I just sent the power to emergency in this room. That way, any cameras or listening devices in here won't work. I want this to be a private conversation between us." Shen almost winced at how easily the lies flowed from his mouth but he couldn't help it. Piggot had told him what he had to do.

Greg's eyes widened and he whipped his head around the room. "Cameras? Listening devices? Why would those things be in the room?" he asked, his voice tense. His muscles clenched and a single hand tightened around the armrest of the metal chair he sat in, causing it to let out a screeching sound.

"It _is_ a government facility, Mr. Veder," Shen replied, forcing himself to ignore the screech of metal. "To my knowledge, there are no listening devices in this room. Should there be any, my actions should render them useless." Again, he nearly winced. If there were any such devices in here, they would run on batteries and not be connected to the main power grid in any way.

Greg visibly relaxed, tension fleeing from his muscles as he let go of the armrest. "So, why'd you do all this?" he asked, gesturing to the dim lighting.

Shen adjusted his glasses, staring the young man in his bright blue eyes. "I know you didn't trigger, Mr. Veder."

And like magic, the vanished tension reappeared. "H-huh? W-w-what do you mean?"

Shen sighed. "Do you know what you sounded like when you told me that story, Mr. Veder?"

Greg shook his head, prompting Dr. Shen to continue. "You sounded like every single cape fanatic I've ever met that found out about triggers. I've heard hundreds of stories like that. A trigger event is more than a scary moment. It is quite literally the worst episode in a person's life. You don't trigger simply from seeing a knife. When a person triggers, they fall unconscious. They certainly do not fight off an entire group at once."

Greg's eyes widened even more, giving him the look of a deer in headlights, or more accurately, a liar who had been found out. "B-but I have powers."

"Yes. Yes, you do. Do you know what a Corona Pollentia is, Mr. Veder?"

"N-no."

Shen placed his hands on the table and looked Greg in the eyes. "A Corona Pollentia is a small part of the brain, a growth that gives people the potential to trigger and get powers. If you don't have one, you don't get powers. Mr. Veder, you underwent a full-body scan. I know that you don't have one." Another lie. The machine was non-invasive, to a degree. It wasn't a CAT scanner. He had received that knowledge directly from Director Piggot herself, courtesy of Panacea. "Other than receiving powers from someone else, there is no possible way that you should be able to do what you can co. So I ask you, Mr. Veder, who gave you your powers?"

Greg jumped up from his seat and dropped a half-eaten sandwich, face set in a grimace. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Shen didn't make a move to get out of his seat. In fact, he barely even reacted at all to Greg's sudden movement, other than raising his eyebrows. "I believe you do. On the night you fought Lung, you wore a suit that could only be designed by a Tinker. Your entire biology, including your brain chemistry, is radically different from a regular persons, changed in ways that only a Bio-Tinker could without killing you. If you came down with a disease, I doubt any hospital on this planet could give you proper treatment. By normal definition, you're not a parahuman and by medical definition, you're definitely not a human."

Oddly, Greg relaxed and smiled as Shen finished speaking. "And? I knew that? I mean, not the treatment stuff, but everything else...I know."

Shen blinked in surprise. He had held the belief that Greg Veder had been unaware of how radically his physiology had been altered. Scaring him into giving up his benefactors seemed the most prudent option. "You...know?"

"Yeah..." Greg replied, nodding. "I'm cool with it, too. At first, I was real freaked out but then I figured...I got powers, so might as well make the best of it."

"Mr. Veder, you do not understand how dangerous this is," Shen began, "We cannot have unknown Bio-Tinkers running around modifying people like this. We especially can't have Tinkers giving away untested technology."

"Look, Dr. Shen, you don't get it. It's a-"

"No, it is you who doesn't get it, Mr. Veder," Shen interrupted. "This is a matter of public safety. How may other people do you think are being modified like this. This city could be overrun with capes as strong as you whose intentions are nowhere as heroic as yours seems to be. Do you understand the danger this Tinker poses?"

"Hey!" yelled Greg, fists clenched. "Ev would never do something like that. He gave me powers for a reason!"

Shen sat back in his chair, mind racing at the slip. 'Ev? What could that stand for? Evolve? Evolution?'

"Who's Ev, Mr. Veder?"

Greg stared at Shen, eyes wide and his mouth open in surprise.

"I want to leave," Greg announced.

"Mr. Veder..."

"No. I didn't commit a crime. You can't keep me here. I want to leave." Greg said with finality, glaring at the scientist with a blank expression.

Shen stood up and placed his tablet on the table, careful to avoid the mess Greg had caused while eating. "If that's what you want."

Greg's frown became more pronounced and a flash of red appeared in his eyes for an instant, his fists clenched tightly enough that Shen heard a knuckle crack. "It is."

"V-very well, then." The scientist walked to the large blast doors with Greg a few paces in front of him. The two walked in tense silence, with Shen stealing occasional glances at Greg as he wondered if he should have eased the pressure up a bit on the questioning. He was grateful that Vahlen had chosen to take the hint and decided to catch up on her sleep. 'If she had been the one doing the questioning, I wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Veder would actually have struck her.'

Shen brought out his keycard and prepared to enter it into the door. Before the card even entered the slot, he stopped and pulled his hand back, one question still on his mind. By his side, Greg cast a glance at the older Chinese man, a mixture of confusion and annoyance clear on his face. "What's wrong? Aren't you gonna open it?"

Shen turned to face Greg, an odd expression on his face. "Will you do me the favor of answering one more question?" As Greg's expression became twisted into irritation, Shen spoke again. "Please, it's not about anything important. It's just something that I need to know."

Greg sighed in resignation, his breath making a soft whistling noise as it left him. "Fine..."

Dr. Shen adjusted his glasses again, looking the slightly taller boy in the eye. "If you had another chance, would you kill Lung?"

Greg did a double take at the question at the question, nearly stumbling back in shock. "Uh...uh...what?" he faltered, blinking rapidly.

Raymond stepped forward, his intense gaze boring into the boy. "If you had another chance at Lung, would you finish the job?"

"N-no, I wouldn't. I wouldn't kill someone like that," he replied, somewhat shakily.

"Really? You nearly killed Lung already. In fact, I was surprised he wasn't dead when they brought him in. What would make a second time any different?"

"T-that was...different. It w-wasn't the way you're...making it...sound, okay," began Greg hesitantly, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "H-he was a danger to people. I wasn't trying to kill him. H-h-he just got hurt...fighting me. That's it. I'm not that kind of person."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at Greg's statement, unsure that the boy believed his own words. "What kind of person are you, then? The kind of person who would amputate someone's arm, crack open his skull till his brain hemorrhaged, and gouge out his eyeballs? If you're not a killer, then what are you? What were you trying to do if not kill Lung?"

Greg recovered from his shock and blinked a few more times before turning aside, a look of deep thought etched on his face. A few seconds later, he turned to face Shen, eyes blazing. "I was trying to kill him but...that **was** different. I was excited, manic, you know...caught up in the moment. I was just trying not to die. I wouldn't just kill someone for no reason. I'm not crazy." Oddly, despite his red eyes, Shen felt no fear from them.

Shen's stare seemed to intensify as Greg spoke and his gray eyes became positively sharp in their gaze, wiping away any pretense of a jolly old man. "No reason? You think someone like Lung has not earned a reason to be killed? Really, Mr. Veder? I thought you knew better than that. I definitely thought that you were better than these heroes", Shen spat the term out violently,"here. I lived in China for years before I came here and I learned many things from my homeland. The most important of those being that a hero does whatever it takes to protect his people, no matter the cost. I wouldn't think you would give your sympathy to a power hungry villain that deserves an end to his depravity," he bit out with an insincere smile, his tone just as sharp as his gaze.

Greg stared down Dr. Shen in return even as the doctor smiled at him, his normally soft blue eyes now a bright scarlet and just as piercing as the older man's. "It doesn't matter if he deserves it. I'm fifteen years old and I've been a hero for five days. I don't think I have the right to kill anybody. Where the hell do you get off asking me that type of question anyway? Why do you want me to kill him?"

The doctor stared at Greg for a few moments more and Greg met his gaze, unwilling to flinch. Shen's eyes seemed to be scanning him, almost as if he was looking for something or in some way measuring his worth. Shen slowly rolled up the sleeve of his lab coat, allowing Greg to see a large red dragon curling up the old man's unusually muscular arms.

After a moment of hard staring, Greg tore his eyes away to look at Shen and noticed the man had been looking at him the entire time, not even glancing down at his arm.

"Ah, well...I apologize if I offended you," Shen said, smile still plastered on his face. "It appears we hold different values. As expected, really. Different generations, different cultures and all that. Frankly, I'd be surprised if we were more alike." Greg said nothing, simply staring at the old man in confusion.

"Well, let's get you out of here." Raymond entered his keycard into the slot and seconds later, the door opened to show two PRT guards standing by the walls. "Would one of you mind escorting Mr. Veder from the building?"

"I'll handle it, sir." The one on the left turned to look at Greg and gestured for him to follow. As the guard walked down the hallway, Greg followed right behind him but after a few seconds, he stopped and gave Dr. Shen one last questioning glance over his shoulder.

Raymond stared at Greg as he walked away, his smile still not quite reaching his eyes. "Goodbye, Mr. Veder. I hope that you'll take my words into consideration," he spoke out loud. Greg gave a hesitant nod and turned away, hurrying after the guard. Shen walked back inside the O.R, his false smile falling away to leave only a somber expression. He rolled up his sleeve again, giving a long look at the head and neck of the scarlet fire-breathing dragon that covered most of his torso. "It is what's best."


	36. Complications 2-9C

Yesterday was my 19th birthday. Here;s my gift to you. Have a Chapter. By the way, I hate 's Doc Manager.

* * *

Complications 2.9C

04/14/2011

Dr. Raymond Shen

 **Power Testing and Ability Classification**

 **Power Testing and Ability Classification**

 **Subject:** Superior (Gregory Lucas Veder)

15 year old Caucasian male. Believed to have gained powers several weeks ago under unknown circumstances. Suspected to be empowered by a Rogue Bio-Tinker know only as "Ev." Not a natural trigger.

 **Height:** 5'10"/177.8 cm

 **Weight:** 190 lbs/81.6 kg

 **Classification(s):** Brute, Mover, Blaster, Striker, Master, Thinker as well as a possible Shaker.

 **Physical Characteristics**

Well-defined musculature on an otherwise skinny frame. Completely hairless, with the only exception being his head. Muscle fibers seem to be extremely dense. Predominantly pink, as opposed to red and white. Bones are much denser than what a normal makeup of calcium-phosphate, collagen and living bone cells should account for. Paradoxically, the bones are much lighter than even normal human bone. Skin was abnormally dense as well. However, skin and blood samples were collected. Teeth seem to be composed like that of a hypercarnivore than a regular carnivores like the average human.

Subject's eyes are rather sensitive to light. Cornea size is proportionate to a cat's; roughly three times the size of a human. Pupils also dilate to a larger extent than that of humans.

Subject's average temperature runs around 5-8 degrees Fahrenheit hotter than the average person, strongly implying some resistance to cold temperature. Heart rate rests at around 30 BPM, suggesting highly efficient cardiovascular system. Excessive eating habits suggest a rather fast metabolism.

Facial features are Aryan-Germanic in appearance. Golden blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a narrow nose of moderate length; fairly high cheekbones and rounded facial bone structure, especially in the jaw; a fairly high forehead but not so much as to be dolichocephalic.

 **Adjusted Ratings**

 **Brute 6** -Extremely strong. Direct weight seems to be roughly 6 tons(US). However, has ability to enhance physical capabilities with a golden "aura" to roughly 12 tons(US). Lifting strength seems to be out of proportion with striking strength as the impact machine measured his most powerful hit in the range of megajoules. (Test was not performed with "aura" due to doubts of machine's durability.) Durable to a proportionate degree of his unenhanced strength. Healing factor sealed small cut in seconds. "Aura" can also accelerate healing to borderline regeneration. Capable of significant exertion for long periods of time without detriment. Subject made mention that his strength, durability and speed increase with time and training. However, subject has also confessed that using his "aura" makes him feel rather weak after it has worn off, implying that his "aura" is limited and has a degenerative effect on his stamina.

 **Mover 5-** Speed tops out at roughly 108 mph/173 kph. When enhanced, that doubles to over 215 mph/347 kph, surpassing Velocity by a few digits. Speed combined with strength would give him incredible jumping capability, easily exceeding 100 meters. Increased agility. Enhancing speed wears down stamina, leaving him weak.

 **Blaster 3-** Can launch golden beams, blasts and balls of piercing, explosive and concussive energy, respectively. Beams are extremely fast, seem to be able to pierce up to four inches of steel plate and vary in size. Blasts are capable of burning and rending apart an inch-thick steel plate apart and also vary in size. Balls appear to be the weakest, range in size and are slow enough that a regular human could dodge them. However, they are still very lethal with the ability to crumple half an inch of steel. Subject has confessed that using these abilities are rather draining.

 **Striker 3-** Subject was able to produce six inch long golden blades from his wrists capable of rending through whatever we tested as well as some sort of jagged projection of "aura" around his palm that seemed to struggle to pierce through steel. Referred to "jagged projection" as the "prototype for his blades. Able to enhance a plastic knife to cut deep into a wooden board with no damage to the knife. Mentioned that all of these are tiring as well.

 **Master 2-** Subject possesses the ability to instill fear, apprehension or tension in a certain radius simply by getting angry. Evidence of this ability is shown through eyes turning red.

 **Thinker 3-** Possesses reflexes proportionate to his speed while he is moving. While not using speed, reflexes are powerful, but not to the same extent. Claims that using his energy enhances reflexes and intellect, granting him enhanced analytical abilities. Proven to have enhanced vision, which he described as telescopic, smell and hearing.

 **Shaker ?-** Claims to possess a shield able to withstand blasts from Lung similar to the one that destroyed a large portion of the Docks. However, he was unable to reproduce the ability no matter how hard he tried.

 **Suspected Weaknesses**

Due to enhanced senses, subject is most likely vulnerable to sonic weapons, tear gas, and flashbangs. Make liberal use of these items when engaging him.

Displays an absentmindedness that seems somewhat out of place. Lacks focus and tends to zone out often. Distractions should work rather well on him.

His maximum effective range with his energy attacks seem to be limited to 10 meters at most. Subject expressed surprise at this, claiming that "last week, it was less than half that." Past that, a child could be struck by it without even noticing a thing.

Engaging him with numbers will shock him, at first. However, he should be able to exert himself for hours before even showing exhaustion. Combined with his Thinker abilities, he could lay waste to nearly any team we sent at him. Forcing him to increase his abilities with his energy will render him weak and easily taken out within fifteen minutes to a half hour.

 **Notes**

Mr. Veder has a variety of powerful abilities that, combined, strongly lead me to the belief that he would be even more dangerous to apprehend than Lung. It is highly suspected that his abilities may grow with time. If possible, I would like to test his abilities on a monthly basis, if possible. I suggest that we increase any observation that he is currently placed under. Finding his benefactors are of utmost importance.

* * *

Piggot sighed, dropping the report on her desk.

She sat back in her chair, glaring at nothing and no one in her empty office. "God, what I would give for a drink right now," she muttered under her breath, kneading her temples with one hand.

This week was just one mess after another, an avalanche of events that threatened to send her blood pressure through the roof. First, it was the gang war that spilled out onto the streets. Then this Superior brat shows up, nearly kills Lung and in the process, makes her entire organization look incompetent by doing something they had failed to do. To make matters worse, she couldn't even use scare tactics to bring the kid into the Wards because he had been dumb enough to go public on his first night out.

Worst of all, the kid didn't even care that his identity was public knowledge to anyone with an Internet connection. No, just like all those brats downstairs, he thought that just because he was young, he was untouchable. And why shouldn't he think that? Piggot lifted her head to look at the report, her face set in it's usual glare. Considering that he soundly beat Glory Girl and mutilated Lung, he was as close as you could get without being Alexandria herself.

Glancing at her computer, Piggot wondered if she should send another email concerning his updated ratings to the Chief Director. It had been a few days since she had informed Costa-Brown of the young boy who had nearly claimed Lung's life and Panacea's suspicions. Receiving a response less than fifteen minutes later had surprised the portly woman, almost to the same extent that the short response had both irritated and thrilled her.

 **Do not make any attempts to investigate. The Triumvirate will be informed of the situation immediately. Appropriate action will be taken.**

Frankly, Piggot didn't understand what the hell all of that meant. For such a succinct message, it was rather vague in it's delivery. Why was the Chief Director so against her investigating the boy? The Triumvirate will be informed of the situation? Hell, Brown could inform them all she wanted but Piggot would greatly prefer it if the Chief simply had Alexandria fly down here and force the boy to talk. Considering he couldn't fly, what better way of making him talk than an interrogation at 40,000 feet?

Over all, the 'appropriate action' that was mentioned seemed the most unclear bit to Piggot. What was appropriate action in a situation like this?

Turning her chair around, the Director stared out at the city from her top floor window as her mind went over a few facts. Records from Winslow showed that the boy had not missed a single day of school in over two years. Considering that the boy was changed by a Bio-Tinker, the implications were terrifying. Whoever had done this could work quickly enough that turning that boy into what he was now could take less than a weekend, possibly even less if his mother was unaware of the process. In that case, what was stopping this 'Ev' from churning out at least one a day? At that rate, he could overwhelm the city with just five capes on Superior's level. Piggot's grimace only increased at the thought of her city being turned into another Ellisburg on her watch. She weighed the viability of having Legend or Eidolon just carpet bomb the city but quickly dismissed the option as too rash. Still, this was something on the same level of seriousness as Nilbog, an S-Class threat in the making.

She cast a glance at the PRT provided cellphone on her desk and, on a whim, picked it up and dialed a number.

"Thomas, it's Emily."

"..."

"...No, I will not call back later."


	37. Interlude 2g: Coil

Interlude 2g: Coil

She was the same as she always was, brimming with unearned confidence and smugness. Smiling at him as if she knew something he didn't know. As if she actually knew anything of real worth and not small tidbits of information that he couldn't have discovered with some effort.

Pitiful.

"So, tell me, what have you learned about this...Superior?"

The edges of her mouth gave a slight upwards twitch as Coil asked his question and she sat up a bit straighter.

"Superior?" repeated Tattletale, lifting her shoulders in a slight shrug. "Didn't we already talk about this over the phone?"

Coil steepled his hands on the desk, leaning forward until his face was almost touching them. "We did but I feel you might have had greater insights since we last conversed. So, what have you learned?"

She sighed. "Not much, really. I've only been around him twice but..." Tattletale placed a hand on her chin as if deep in thought, pursing her lips slightly. "I did learn something about him. It's not even important like the stuff from before. I only learned a little."

"Just a little?" he relied, tone level as he stared at her through the tinted lenses of his mask.

She raised a thumb and forefinger to her eyes and brought them close together, smiling slyly. "Just a tad."

"Then, please, share what you've managed to glean from him with your powers. What you feel is most relevant, of course."

She flashed him a smug grin at those words and for an instant, he almost regretted the enforced persona of politeness he usually kept. The little cunt seemed to preen whenever he seemed like he was being more polite than usual, as if she thought he was trying to curry favor her. If she didn't understand how things were by now, then her power was obviously leading her to some wrong conclusions. It was almost as if she thought she was irreplaceable to him. In a sense, she was.

Infuriating as she was, where else would he find such a deserving target for his...catharsis?

The little cunt leaned back in her chair, grin still wide on her face. "Well, he..."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"A TRUMP! AAAAUUUGGG! HE'S A TRUMP! GAHHHHH! PLEASE!"

Tattletale shook in her chair, jerking against the mechanical restraints that held her down. Moving as she did caused bruises to form around her wrists and ankles but she didn't seem to be paying attention any of that. Indeed, she didn't even seem to notice the bleeding welts forming on her wrists from all her thrashing.

"AAUUUGGGGGGHHHH!"

How could she? After all-"STOOOOP! AaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHH!" After all, she couldn't focus on something as trivial as that. Not when-"GAAHHHH!"

Not when her fingers were being crushed one by one with a pair of pliers.

"Ah, a Trump. And, how do you know this?" Coil stood by her side, voice calm and friendly even as he applied more pressure to the large pair of pliers he held in his hands. "Come on now, Tattletale, I don't have all day."

Underneath his skintight suit, the man had a big smile on his face as he watched the young girl scream beneath him. He would be lying if he said that he didn't get a certain thrill from the pain of others, especially when he was the one inflicting it. But then again, who didn't?

"I believe I asked you a question, Miss Wilbourn."

The girl was oblivious to him, having dissolved into pained groans and moans as he eased up on the pressure.

She was ignoring him! He had her life in his hands and she wasn't even paying attention to him. 'Let's fix that, shall we?'

"Miss...ugh...WILBOURN!" With a grunt of exertion, the pliers in his hand tightened, clamping down on the blonde's delicate forefinger with a loud and gratifying crack.

The girl didn't disappoint. With a shrill scream, she jerked up, thrashing wildly and unintentionally making Coil clamp down harder. "HE MADE LUNG STRONGER! HE MADE LUNG STRONGER! HE MADE LUNG STRONGER!"

"Is that all, Ms. Wilbourn?"

"PLEASE! STOP! I'LL NEVER HIDE ANYTHING AGAIN! PLEAAAAaiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Her voice went up a few octaves, screaming in complete agony but Coil only tightened his grip as she continued to beg and plead for forgiveness, her voice raspy from overuse. With a wet, grinding noise, her finger fell to the floor, completely separate from the hand it once belonged to and leaving behind little more than a nub of bleeding flesh and visible bone. Tattletale wheezed and took in big gasps of air, big fat droplets of tears rolling down her face as she stared at her missing finger and the crushed, bloody ones that came before it.

Coil threw the pliers off to the side, elation growing as he took in the girl's nearly silent gasps of pain. Either he was getting more inventive or Tattletale had been out of breath when she had entered his office. Discounting that time he had introduced her to a car battery, it normally took much longer for her to be unable to scream from lack of air. It didn't matter anyway. He was almost done with her.

He bent over until he was face level with Tattletale and raised a hand to her face, caressing her cheek even as she trembled at his touch and forcefully quieted herself. The mixture of blood and tears on her face didn't bother him at all as he trailed a finger down her chin. It wouldn't be the first time he had gotten her bodily fluid on the suit and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He noticed her glance down at his hand and from the look in her eyes, Coil knew from experience that she was considering biting it. As her eyes stayed focused on one of the digits in particular, the one closest to her mouth, Coil hoped she would actually bite him. The times when she did made her resulting punishment all the more sweet. To his disappointment, she didn't even so much as try to retaliate against him, her eyes dulling and the remaining energy in her muscles seeming to evaporate.

"Hello, love. I'm rather sorry that you had to go through all that unpleasantness. You have to understand my position here; you lied to me and I can't have that, you see." He ran a hand through her hair as he spoke, and traced another down her jawline, breath quickening as the girl no longer moved away as he touched her. She was **his** now.

"You were keeping secrets and I can't have that. Worst of all, you doubted me and I definitely can't have that. Now, I'll make you a deal. I won't hurt you anymore as long as you tell...me...everything," he whispered the last few words in her ear, hoping it would have the effect it normally instilled in her.

It did.

She told him everything, even extrapolating on things she had already told him. His powers, his skills, his weaknesses. What she gleaned of the boy's personality, his interests, likes, dislikes. She also mentioned that the boy had unresolved issues with his confidence. Coil didn't care about half of what she had to say, considering half of it was probably speculation to save her life. What Coil found most interesting was the specifics behind the boy's Trump ability. He'd have to investigate this matter personally.

"C-c-can...I go now, please? I'm s-s-s...sorry. I'll never d-d-do it again. I'll never tell anyone, really. P...please?" As the last few words spilled from Tattletale's bloody and bruised mouth, she actually had the gall to look up at him with hope in her teary eyes. Although, noted Coil with interest, she seemed to actually believe what she was saying. Still, he didn't care about honesty. He'd get the truth regardless of lies or deceit. What he wanted was control and he knew one of the best ways to instill that into Tattletale.

Coil stepped back and reached behind his neck, grasping for something. As his fingers grabbed hold of the zipper, he slowly pulled it down, enjoying Tattletale's horrified expression as she realized what he was doing. It was at this point that she usually gave up, losing hope that he would actually let her live, but Coil hoped she would at least try to fight this time. That always made it so much more enjoyable.

"Won't you scream for me, Miss Wilbourn?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"...he probably has an Oedipal complex."

Coil blinked at the girl's words, not expecting that statement of all things. "An Oedipal complex?"

She nodded, that same smug smile on her face. "Yep."

Coil simply looked at her over his steepled hands for a few seconds before speaking again. "And you know this how?"

"Well, I can't say exactly but for some reason, my power says that he has a dislike for male authority figures and an intense affection for female authority figures. Coupled with the fact that his parents got divorced because of his dad's infidelity and alcoholism, he also lives with his mother. I'd say he's pretty damn Oedipal by now." Tattletale finished with a grin, cocking her head at Coil as if waiting for a response.

Coil sat in front of the girl, slightly amused by her words but rather annoyed by how easily she could lie to him. It was moments like this that he often found himself wishing he had a third timeline to waste just so he could deal with her again. For now, though, he just wanted her gone. "Thank you, Miss Wilbourn, that will be all."

"Really? That's it?" She gave him a glance as if unsure he wasn't playing a joke on her.

"Yes. I don't need much from you today."

"Okay." With a shrug, the blonde stood up and prepared to exit the room when she suddenly stopped as Coil called her, something suddenly coming to mind.

"Miss Wilbourn, I ask that you and your team do your best to avoid contact with Superior."

Tattletale turned around and while that same infuriating smile was plastered on her face, he could see a hint of confusion in her expression. "Why would we do that? He's a hero, a strong one too. We're not crazy."

Coil waved off her replies, well aware that she planned on meeting up with the cape somehow. "It was just a warning. After all, there are rather dangerous people in the world we live in. I wouldn't want to see you getting hurt now."

Tattletale turned her head towards the older man, cocking her head as she looked him over. Gradually, the gleam in her eyes turned from smug to wary. "I'll be sure to avoid that, then."

"Goodbye, Miss Wilbourn."

"...Bye."

As the girl left the room, Coil leaned back in his chair, still riding high from the memories of the previous timeline. Putting the annoying little cunt in her place was one of the best perks of his power.

As he began to review the events of the other timeline, he was distracted as a phone in his desk began to ring. Opening a drawer, he brought out his phone and noted the Caller Id.

'Piggot...delightful. Another dumb cunt to deal with.'

"Hello."

"..."

"Yes, yes, I know. I do have caller ID. Is this important? I'm trying to relax right now. Can you call back later?"

"..."

"All right, Emily, you don't have to yell. What is it?"

"..."

"What kind of question is that? Of course. I would go to any lengths to stop another Ellisburg."

"..."

"...Superior? Really, now? Isn't that something?"


	38. Complications 2-10

Complications 2.10

* * *

"I'm home."

Greg stepped into his house and grabbed the doorknob, wincing slightly as his fingers slid into the grooves he made previously. He sighed as he closed the door behind him.

'I really did a number on that thing, didn't I?' Greg shook his head at the thought. His powers were still a bit weird but he couldn't deny that they were worth much more than any trouble they caused. Besides, without these powers, he'd have been in serious trouble running home shirtless in Brockton Bay. New England nights tended to be rather cold, after all. It may not have been the best idea to leave the PRT HQ in such a rush but he didn't really feel like staying there any longer.

'Dr. Shen went from nice to creepy old man really quick.' Greg brushed off the thoughts of his odd encounter and gave a quick look around, somewhat surprised that the house was so dark.

"Mom? You home?" he called out. 'Why would she turn off all the lights like this? It's only...' Greg paused to glance at his phone, 'seven o' clock.'

Greg frowned and called out, a bit louder this time."Mom? You there? I'm home."

...Nothing. Apart from the gentle hum of electronics in the background and the sound of water in the pipes, he couldn't hear a thing. "Mom? It's me...Greg."

This...this was kinda weird. He had seen his mom's car outside so she should have been home. Greg glanced around, a hint of nervousness creeping into his expression. "Mom?"

Kicking off his PRT-given boots, Greg looked around the house, poking his head into the living room and the kitchen. Apart from a wine glass sitting on the coffee table and something wrapped in aluminum foil in the kitchen, nothing was out of the ordinary."Mom?"

Fear began to settle into his chest as possibilities formed in his mind. He had left his mom alone after outing himself. What the hell was he thinking? This was Brockton Bay, home of three of the biggest cape gangs on the East coast, and he had left his mother alone while he played around in a lab.

'I'm such a fucking idiot!'With that thought in mind, he rushed up the stairs, willfully ignoring the crack of wood under his foot as he landed on the top step. "M-mom?" he repeated, voice wavering slightly.

Nothing.

Slowly walking towards her room, Greg forced himself to calm his breathing, steeling himself to face whatever he saw. Placing his hand on one of the double doors, he gave a very gentle push and opened the door wide. The door swung open wide and as he took in the sight of his mother's room, his eyes widened and he let out a gasp.

"...Goddammit it, Mom."

Susan Veder lay splayed all over her queen bed, fast asleep. Her chest rose up and down with a steady tempo, easing Greg's tensions. However, something else was making him tense, making him as worried as he was annoyed.

Instead of being dark like the rest of the house, the master bedroom was dimly lit only by the glow of the muted television as a news anchor moved his mouth in complete silence. Greg didn't pay any attention to the TV, choosing to focus on what exactly had caught his attention.

On the floor beside her bed lay a couple dozen wine bottles of different kinds; dry, wet, whites, reds. You name it, it surrounded her. More than a few of them were open and emptied while the majority simply stood as they were, unopened and pristine on the wood floor. Greg bent over and read a few labels, eyes widening as he did so.

"Comtes de Champagne Rose...Barbaresco Santo Stefano...Cabernet...Echezeaux...Pinot Noir Chambertin," Greg whispered, casting a glance over all the bottles. Being raised by an alcoholic and a woman who really loved her wine had taught him more than a little bit about alcohol. Scotch, vodka, whiskey, he could name the brands and varieties. However, with all the time he had spent with his mom, he had a bunch of useless information about wine taking up space in his skull.

Greg stood up straight and sighed as he looked over at his mother's insensate form. "What the hell, Mom?"

Instead of the silence he expected, Susan let out a low moan and shifted slightly in her bed. "...Languashe, Greggy..." The woman lifted her head just a little and slowly opened her eyes, exposing the red-rimmed blue orbs to her son.

Greg blinked owlishly as his mom let out a yawn. "How...how long have you been awake?"

"Abow...abow...mebbe when you came home. You...youuu yell really loud, yaknow? I...," Susan cut herself off, letting out a loud moan as she cradled her head with a single hand. "Mah head...mmmm."

'Really? I wonder why?' Greg sighed, shaking his head. "You're drunk, Mom. Like, really drunk. I thought we talked about this."

Susan let out another muffled moan into a pillow and shook her head slowly, denying the rather obvious truth.

"Okay, fine. You're not drunk." Greg rolled his eyes and picked up a random open bottle and let out another sigh as he read the label. "Prisoner Double Magnum? This...this is Napa Valley, Mom. Real expensive stuff."

Susan picked her head up from the pillow and blinked her bleary eyes at her son. "Maxy gev...uhh...gev...prezenzz."

'Maxy?" Greg gave the wine bottle a little wiggle and shook his head. "A $400 dollar present?"

Susan ran a hand through her blonde hair, groaning at what seemed to be a hangover. "M'ere."

"Really?" Greg raised an eyebrow at his mother as she patted the spot next to her on the bed.

She blinked at him slowly and nodded, her head lolling around a bit as she did so. "M'ere."

"O...kay." Greg replied with a slight tilt of his head. Walking over to the other side, Greg hopped on the bed and lay down next to his mom. "So...Maxy?"

Susan turned around to face her son, settling into her pillows. "'E...'e luvs us. Maxy...Maxy jusz...wanz ta help. 'E...'e...wuzzen dere fur uz before and he's...uh..sorry, ya know. Dat's why 'e gave me all dis prezenzz."

"Twenty bottles of wine, really? What kind of present is that?" Greg replied with a frown.

"Iz okay, Greggy, 'e luvs us. Jus trynna help. Mek us 'appy, ya know."

Greg's frown shifted to a grimace. "Whatever. I don't wanna talk about it anyway."

"Wuz wrong, Greggy?"

Shaking his head, Greg replied. "It's nothing. Just be careful with Uncle Max, okay."

"Why?" She tilted her head at him, unfocused eyes aimed at his general direction. With her slightly oversized pajamas, scattered hair and large blue eyes, she looked much, much younger than she was. For a moment, Greg was struck with how childlike she became when she drank and he found himself stumbling over his words.

"It's...it's just...kinda like...I'm not a hundred percent sure Max is...he's not like...,", he paused, his face pursing into an odd expression. He took a deep breath through his nose before continuing. "I'm just not sure about some stuff, okay...and I really don't want you to get hurt."

Susan's eyes slowly narrowed and she fixed Greg with a look that was equal parts annoyed and confused. "Really, miztah? You're the one talkin' 'bout gettin' hurt righ' now? After the mess youuu made today? Why do youuuu think I was drinkin' in the firs' place?"

'Shit!' Greg's eyes widened as his mom continued to glare at him and he rushed to think of something to say to change the subject. 'What do I say? What do I say?'

"Uh...how was your day, Mom?" He gave the mental equivalent of a facepalm as soon as the words exited his mouth. 'That's not gonna work, dummy. Mom's already halfway into lecture mode.'

To his surprise, his mother's face shifted from a focused glare into a dull, smiling gaze. "My day? You wanna know 'bout my day?"

Greg nodded, a wide smile plastered on his face as he gave himself a mental pat on the back for quick thinking. "Yeah, Mom. I'd love to hear about it."

Susan sat up in her bed, silk sheets around her waist. "Well, nothin' really happened 'cept for the fight."

"A fight?" parroted Greg.

Susan nodded slowly with half-lidded eyes. "Mmmhmmm...Maxy had sum' of his guys bring stuff over. Lottsa food and some...uh...alco...aclo...liquor. They...drove me home and uh...there was...there was a bunch of news guys outside the house. They were rushin' me and trynna ask me a whole lotta questions about you. Max's guys almost got in a big fight with them and I was gonna call the cops but the guys told me they weren't doing anything illegal."

Greg's jaw dropped slightly as his mother spoke. "The news came here? For me?"

Susan shook her head, lips jutting out in a slight pout as she did so. "Noooo, they came for me. They heard youuu," she paused to poke his bare chest, "were at the PRT. They wanted to ask me stuff. Talkin' all about how you were more violent and wild than any other hero in the Bay. Askin' if I felt okay with you being all crazy. I was real mad until one of Max's guys told them how you would feel when you found out they were annoying me. They ran like crazy," she finished with a giggle. "Guess they didn't feel like making you mad."

Greg smiled and laughed quietly along with her even as his mind was somewhere else entirely. 'She's really drunk...like really, really drunk.' Grave gave a mental sigh as he thought of all the large array of expensive wine and powerful liquors that his mother had next to her bed. 'Goddamit, Uncle Max. What the hell, man? Mom does not need more alcohol right now!'

"...you think, Greggy?

Greg blinked in surprise as he realized his mother had been speaking. "Uhhhhh...what?"

Susan let out a yawn, barely bothering to cover her mouth, before replying. "I said...whaddya think?"

'About what?' was what he desperately wanted to ask. Experience had taught him better so instead of admitting that he had not been paying attention, he replied with a hesitant "Yeah...sure."

His mom responded to his answer by suddenly grabbing his cheeks with both hands. The drunk woman held on to the side of his face and began to rub his cheeks, squeezing and mashing them into weird positions, cooing and making baby noises as she did so. "My baby boooooy's a big ol' hero now. Shaving people, running all over...just like the Triumvirate."

'Shaving people?' Greg bit his lip as he tried not to laugh at his mom's slurred speech and at the same time, tried to think about what his mom could have asked him that could have garnered this reaction. After a moment, he brushed it off. He couldn't even think straight with his mom hands playing with his face like silly putty. 'After all, it couldn't have been that important, right?'

"You know, I don't care if you're a big... _hic..._ hero, you really should call me when you get hurt. I'm your mom and I need to know when you do shomething crazy...like when you lose a hand." As Susan mentioned his former injury, she let go of his face to grab ahold of his hands.

Greg let out a nervous chuckle as his mother seemed to be studying his appendages, looking over each individual finger with all the focus a drunk woman could muster. "About my hand, see..."

Susan glanced up at him, giving Greg a look of annoyance. "Oh...I know. It doeshn' matter 'caushe you can heal, right?"

'Well, actually, Panacea had to heal my hand because there was too much damage,' was Greg's first thought but instead of saying the first thing that came to mind, he nodded. "Sorry, Mom. I have a job now and I'm gonna get hurt but...people need my help."

Without warning, his mom pulled him closer and gave him a hug that would have been almost painful if he wasn't...well, you know. "Greggy, you're shoooo brave. Ohhh, I rememba' when you were shoooo tiny. Now, you're all biggen' shtrong," she said, voice warbling a bit.

Susan let go of him and pulled away from the hug slowly, but not before placing a rather sloppy kiss on Greg's forehead.

"Uhhh...Mom!" Greg winced, wiping off the saliva with the back of his hand. "Gross!"

Susan giggled and fell back on her pillow, eyes still on her son. "Whash grosh about it? Can't a mom give her baby a kish to show her love?"

Greg lay down completely, resting his head on a pillow and facing his mother. "Okay, three things, Mom. One, I'm not a baby. Two, I don't need spit on my forehead to know that you love me and three, I have a super nose and you have wine breath," Greg finished with a twitch of his nose, sending his mother into peals of laughter.

"Sho...,"Susan grinned, still giggling, "what you're shaying is your mommy's breath shtinks?"

Greg grinned right back. "Yes, 'Mommy', that's exactly what I'm saying."

Cupping a hand to her mouth, Susan grimaced as she tested her breath. "I better go brush," she muttered to herself, "Can't have wine be on my breath tomorrow." Susan sat up and swung her legs over the bed, stumbling ever so slightly as her feet touched the ground.

Greg sat up and nodded, . "I'm gonna head to bed, then."

Susan shook her head and waved him down. "No, stay for a lil'. I shtill wanna talk to you about shomething."

"Can't we do this tomorrow?" Greg let out a groan, scratching his scalp.

"Just wait for me. It's been a while since we've talked like this, Greggy."

Greg gave a slow nod in response to his mom's words. "I guess it has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Mmmhmmm..." Susan paused to let out yet another yawn, raising her arms high as she let out a large breath. "Just wait here and I'll be right back." Susan turned around and entered a door leading off from her room. As soon as she closed it behind her, Greg heard the sound of tap water rushing out. As the sound of rushing water was quickly drowned out by the very familiar sound of his mother emptying the contents of her stomach, he rolled his eyes and fell back onto his mother's bed.

'I don't get why she has to let herself go when she drinks.' Greg let out a sigh and began to think back on their conversation. 'I wonder if she was serious when she said she was drinking because of me. Is she really that worried or was that just a joke? Maybe I should ease back on the violence a bit...just to make her feel better.' Even as the thought passed through his mind, he felt part of him cringe at even the thought of pacifism. 'Maybe not...' Greg rolled over to face the bathroom door, the sound of rushing water and retching still audible. 'Okay, I'll give it a try. Guess I'm on patrol tomorrow...wait...'

Greg knew he was forgetting something. Something important...'Was there something I was supposed to do tomorrow? Meet Max? Meet Quinn? No...huh, I'll figure it out later. If I forgot, it probably wasn't all that important anyway. That's a problem for future me.' Satisfied that nothing was really wrong, he settled himself into the bed's silk sheets.

"...zzzzzzz..."

* * *

10:09 PM

* * *

Greg woke up to a sudden knowledge of three things. One, the television was no longer muted. Two, there was a hand cradling his partially bald head. Three, there was another hand wrapped around his bare chest, moving ever so slightly every few seconds. He looked down at the hand on his chest and noted the sky blue nail polish on them. 'Oh...I slept on Mom's bed.' He could hear her soft breaths over his shoulder, her chest rising and falling with every breath on his back.

Greg groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead, dragging it down his face. "...Mom, you up?"

For a moment, Greg thought she was completely asleep but the sudden shifting of her hands told him otherwise. "Mmmhmm..."

"Why...why are your hands all over me?"

"You're really...really...really warm, Greggy...mmm..." Greg felt her arms tighten around his chest as she spoke.

Greg gave a mental shrug and pushed back into his mom's arms, simply enjoying the closeness. He and his mom used to sleep like this all the time, although 'all the time' usually took place before he turned thirteen. The long nights where his mom would wait up for his dad, he would take that as a cue to cuddle up next to her and they would just talk for hours until they fell asleep. Greg's lips lifted slightly in a wistful smile as he thought back. He and his mom...those nights...he could tell her anything and she would just listen, maybe putting in her own two cents. It was...it was nice. "Mom, can...can I talk to you about something?"

"Mmmhmm...yeah." She shifted slightly but her hands remained almost interlocked around him.

'Okay, you can do this. You can do this.' Greg inhaled slowly, pausing to let the breath out before continuing."You remember last month when I started working out?"

"Mmmhmm..."

"Well...some other stuff happened. See, I kinda...kinda met someone. He was the one who...you know...changed me."

"Huh?"

"There was this guy and he kinda, well," Greg paused, struggling to find the best way to phrase his thoughts, "...he kinda changed my life. I've been trying to find the best time to tell you but..."

"It's alright...I knew, sweetheart." Susan's voice was drowsy and slurred, a mixture of tiredness and drunkenness, but Greg still understood her rather well.

He blinked, confusion making it's way onto his face. "You...knew?"

Susan let out a slow sigh into the back of her son's neck, shifting slightly. "I live in thish houshe. I can tell things. Your hair, your shkin, workin' out. It'sh obvious. Tell me 'bout him."

Greg pursed his lips as he tried to think about things he could tell his mom about Evron. 'Yeah, he's a creepy voyeuristic superhero from an alternate universe who loves messing with me. No, definitely not.'

"Well, his name's Evron and he has this really spiky white hair..."

"Ooh, doesh he dye it?"

"...I don't really know...probably not. Umm...he has like muscles all over, but he's not really built. Kinda like me, I guess. He's always smiling and, well, he has a look on his face like he knows something you don't."

Susan let out a husky chuckle. "Oh, I get it. I shupport you, Greggy. I'd love to...," Susan paused to let out a yawn, "...meet the young man who could make my little boy this happy."

Greg sighed and melted back into his mother's arms. "Thanks, I guess. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I was just kinda worried about how you'd react to him, especially with how weird he can be but...you're so cool with it. I mean, everything. He's been living here on and off for like a month, eating our food, watching our TV, being snarky about our primitive technology and horrible video quality. Generally just being a dick all day for no reason. It's kinda annoying, really."

"Mom?"

"...zzzz..."

A soft smile slowly spread on his face as he settled into his sleeping mother's arms, relaxed and at peace. His mom was happy, although that might just be the alcohol, and he felt like a kid again, cuddled up against his mother like he used to be. Moments like this, peaceful and quiet moments, were so nice that he almost wished that they would n-" _BREAKING NEWS IN BROCKTON BAY_!"

'The hell is that?' Greg nearly jerked up as the introductory fanfare of the Brockton Bay Nightly News assaulted his sensitive eardrums, stopping himself only because he feared waking his mother up. Greg fixed his gaze on the television, watching as the news channel went through it's required minute and thirty seconds of overdone graphics until it finally ended with " _Brockton Bay Nightly News with Bryce Canyon!_ " and the torso of a square-jawed man with well coiffed black hair filled the screen.

" _Breaking News in Brockton Bay here tonight as the bodies of nearly twenty of the Archer's Bridge Merchants were recovered from the Docks earlier this evening by the Brockton Bay Police Department. We turn to Michelle Holloway for more on this Breaking Story._ "

The screen changed to show a young red-headed woman holding a microphone with one hand while holding an umbrella with the other as she stood underneath a steady rainfall. " _Thank you, Bryce. I'm currently standing in front of the intersection of Conway and Kelly where the original body was found. Earlier today, a call came into the BBPD of a dead body found in an alley. The police rushed down to find not just one, but two different bodies in the alley right behind me. Shortly after, the BBPD located several more bodies. It was less than an hour ago that the police located the most recent body. All of the bodies recovered have the same identifying mark; intense bleeding from the ears, nose and eyes, as well as a blue crystalline substance around them or on their nostrils, leading investigators to believe that this is the work of a powerful new drug. It is unknown if the Merchants plan to distribute this drug or if any other lives have been claimed by it. The PRT have yet to release an official statement concerning the matter but Battery of the Protectorate had this to say._ "

The screen changed to show an image of Battery, green circuitry on her uniform glowing brightly, with Assault by her side trying to be as stoic as his partner. Her face was set in something reminiscent of a frown as she faced the camera and she spoke in a somewhat stilted manner. Greg couldn't help but smile on the look at her face as she stood underneath the pouring rain. " _We at the Protectorate will do our utmost to make sure that the Merchants will be kept in line, making sure that this drug is kept off the streets and that the citizens of Brockton Bay are safe from criminal activity from the likes of the Merchants. Thank you."_

The screen cut back to Michelle. " _Seeing that the Protectorate is working hard on this issue is certainly reassuring. The people of Brockton can sleep easy tonight knowing that they're on the case. This has been Michelle Holloway with Brockton Bay Nightly News. Back to you, Bryce."_

Greg cut off the TV with the remote before Bryce could come back on the screen. He had already heard all he needed to when it came to the Merchants and frankly, he didn't care. They were Merchants and that's all he needed to know. 'A bunch of crazy drug-dealing murderers killing themselves with their own supply? Karma's a bitch, isn't it?' Greg shook his head and settled back into his mother's body, closing his eyes. His breathing slowed as he began to slowly...slowly...drift off...to sle- _Ding...Ding...Ding._

Greg forced down a growl as he opened his eyes and reached into his pockets to grab his phone. 'What the hell is it now?' The screen turned on and Greg read the first message that popped up on the bright AMOLED screen.

HEY DICKWAD! THE FUCK, BRO?

"Sparky?"


	39. Complications 2-11

Complications 2.11

For the first few seconds of waking up, Greg felt sleepy. A certain type of weight seemed to be on his muscles to the point that even moving his head seemed to be a monumental effort. As quick as the sensation had been, it vanished shortly after as energy rushed through him in an instant, hitting him like a caffeine rush. Greg didn't even blink as he felt the sensation pass through his system, revitalizing him. After a month of it happening, he was kinda used to it now. Frankly, he preferred it to the zombie-like stumbling around he used to do as soon as he woke up. 'Still,' he thought as he stepped off his mother's bed, 'I wish I could just lie in bed like I used to.'

Greg shrugged the wistful thought away and let out a yawn, stretching his arms upwards. He had gotten a great night's sleep and it was all thanks to his mom. He knew that most teenagers would feel embarrassed over the way he slept, curled up in his mother's arms like a baby. He honestly didn't care if it seemed childish to anyone else. He had missed sleeping that way for a while.

'What time is it anyway?' Greg pulled out his new phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen for a moment. '10:07...yeesh. I slept that long? Eh...whatever.'

He glanced around his mother's room, noting how the scattered bottles of wine from last night had been arranged on the back wall next to her vanity. 'An entire wine cabinet and she leaves these up here.' Shaking his head, Greg turned back to face his mother's bed and began making it.

As he finished arranging the covers, Greg stepped out of his mom's bedroom and walked towards his own before quickly changing his mind. 'Nah, I need a shower.' After pausing to grab a clean towel from the linen closet, he stepped in to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Greg gave his shirtless torso a once-over in the mirror, checking for any signs of yesterday's events left on his body. 'Oh, man.' He grimaced as his fingers roamed over his left side, a small section of raised skin on his ribs still visible by it's slightly paler color. His hand was the same, a good deal paler than the rest of him; which was really saying a lot. 'I thought everything would have healed by now.' Sighing, he put his phone down on the counter and removed his jeans and socks and stood naked in front of the mirror.

He looked over his nude form, the definition in his muscles visible even at rest. He raised an arm to his head and flexed, grinning at the visible bulge of muscle. He turned away from his arm and glanced at the mirror again, his grin stretching the limits of his face. Striking a pose, he bent his knees, twisted his waist and angled his arms diagonally pointing to his left like a bodybuilder, tensing nearly every muscle in his body. "God...I look good!", he shouted out to the empty bathroom, letting out a short bark of laughter.

It had been an entire month and he still couldn't get enough of himself. Looking like this, this...perfection, was more than he had ever thought possible for him. He would have killed to look like one of those teen models before and now...hell, they'd probably kill to be him. His skin was clear, somewhat pale but clear. Cut arms, toned legs...he looked amazing. He couldn't have made himself better if he tried.

'Although...' Greg looked in the mirror, rubbing the left side of his head, the bald part, before he glanced down and frowned. 'This hairless thing is kinda annoying.' Not only was the hair on his head being difficult and refusing to grow, the chest hair and hair that he had managed to grow on certain...other places hadn't grown back after Lung had burnt him. From the neck down he was completely hairless, and he wasn't really loving it. 'I look like one of those hairless cats with the big eyes.' Greg looked at his reflection in the mirror again. 'Big eyes...big eyes...big eyes? Are my eyes too big for my head? Nah...' Greg shook his head, brushing away the thought. 'I look great...although, my neck is kinda l-...No, no, I look fine.'

Greg sighed and got into the shower, turning the faucet handles to achieve his usual mix of hot and cold. He stood underneath the lukewarm spray for a few minutes, lathering his hair as he waited for the heat to turn on. 'What's up with this thing?' Greg turned up the heat to full, completely shutting off the cold water, and waited. He frowned as steam filled the air and fogged the bathroom up, yet he felt nothing more than a tepid stream hitting his face.

"You're fucking kidding me. How the hell can I not feel this? This doesn't make...sense...shit..." Thinking back to the other day at the PRT when he had been sprayed down after waking up and after working out, he had simply played off the lukewarm water as cheap government heaters or something. He didn't even think of it being because of him. 'I've heard of Brutes being resistant to heat but I didn't know it would be like this. Fuck!' Greg turned off the water and stood in the shower, muttering to himself under his breath.

"How in the hell...water cold as shit...goddamn...fuck-fuck-fuck...Glory Girl have to deal with shit like this...fuckin' hell..." Still mumbling various unpleasantries, Greg stepped out of the shower, head still full of soapy lather. He grabbed his towel off the counter and raised it to his head, roughly drying his hair. As he did another quick swipe with the towel, he forgot to factor in his strength and with a loud rip, the fibers gave way. "No...no...no...no!" Greg lowered the towel's remains to eye level and glared at the mess of cotton fabric in his hands, as if trying to set it on fire with a glare.

'Okay...relax...,' Greg let out a slow breath, doing his best calm himself. 'Forget a towel. Just get dressed.' Already annoyed, he grabbed hold of the door knob to the bathroom and twisted it open. Instead of the slight creak of the door opening, Greg was treated to the din of tearing metal and a spray of wood grain and dust particulates as he tore the knob from the door. Before he could even cope with the fact that he had destroyed yet another doorknob, he caught sight of the door and the long crack he had created running diagonally across half the length of it.

Greg said nothing, simply holding a deep breath and closing his eyes. He was naked, he was wet, he was covered in wood dust and he was NOT ANGRY. HE WAS CALM. HE WAS CALM. HE WAS COMPLETELY. FUCKING. CALM. It was just a door knob. Just a stupid piece of brass. Just a door knob. Just the second door knob he had broken this week. Nothing to get angry about. As he opened his eyes, Greg let out the breath he had been holding and unclenched his fist, letting a small ball of bronze metal fall out of his hands. 'Breathe.'

Pushing his free hand through the hole he had just created, Greg opened the bathroom door and walked out into the hallway. As he entered his own room, he paused to take in the sight in front of him.

"Yo, Greg. Letting it all hang out today?"

Greg didn't answer. For a long moment, he simply stared at Evron as the albino hovered above his bed. Evron returned the boy's stare, tilting his head slightly as he noted Greg's naked body. After what felt like several minutes of silence, Greg gave a grunt and walked into his bedroom closet, closing the door behind him as slowly and carefully as possible.

Evron lifted an eyebrow as Greg walked away without a single word of greeting. "What crawled up his ass?" And with those elegant words of wisdom, Evron Grey went back to organizing the large mountain of drugs he had piled on Greg's bed.

Ten Minutes Later

Greg stood inside his walk-in closet, dressed up in something that could actually handle his strength and feeling emotionally ready to face whatever the hell had been going on in his room before. He was pretty sure he had seen an absolutely insane amount of drugs on his bed, piled into a large mound, while Ev just sat there counting them or something. Several things didn't make sense there. Evron was a hero...as far as he knew, at least. He was weird and violent but except for that, he seemed okay. It just didn't make sense for him to have all those drugs. Hell, where would he get them in the first place?

'Okay, I'm not gonna learn anything in here. Let's just go out there, ask Ev and get this over with.' Greg gently (very, very gently) opened the closet door and poked his head outside. Seeing no drugs anywhere in sight, he let out a sigh of relief. 'Okay, no drugs there. That's good, right? Right? If drugs were here, that would be bad...but if drugs weren't here anymore, that would mean they were being used...or something.'

"So...what's up, guy?"

Greg gave a slight jump and glared upwards at the source of his ire. The white-haired person in question was lazily drifting near the ceiling of Greg's room, not even looking as several large stacks of cash that floated alongside him.

"What's up? What's up?" Greg frowned as Evron continued to drift, money flying neatly from one stack to another. "I don't know, what's up with all money? Where'd you get all that cash from? What's that about?"

"Oh, this money. I still that can't get over how you primitives still use paper for your money. Just so wasteful. Anyway, I'm just counting it," Evron replied, not even glancing at the money behind him.

"Counting it? You're not even looking at it!"

Smirking, Evron made a twitching gesture with his hand and the cash behind him flew from their stacks and floated near the ceiling, each bill separate from each other. "I don't need to look at them to see them. I already know I've got one hundred and eighty-one hundred dollar bills, eighty-nine fifties, eighty twenties, sixty-seven tens, fifty-eight fives and two one dollar bills."

Without warning, Greg winced as a sharp pain appeared in his temples and his mind was filled with numbers. 'Total equals 25112 dollars.' Greg's eyes widened. "That's...impressive," he said out loud, to himself more than to anyone else.

"No, it's not. You're just easily entertained, like a baby with keys or a dog with a ball." Evron made another quick twitching motion with his hand and the money arranged itself back into neat stacks floating behind him.

"Funny," Greg retorted sarcastically. His gaze shifted back to his bed and he glanced back up at Evron with narrowed eyes. "What was the deal with all those drugs on my bed? Where'd they go? How did you even get them?"

Evron raised an eyebrow and continued to slowly drift in the air, fat stacks of crisp bills still following him around. "Drugs? Drugs? Oh, yeah, those drugs. Yeah, those aren't important. Just a little side project, nothing to worry about. Ignore it."

'The hell's that supposed to mean?' Greg folded his arms and gave Evron a rather heated glance, noting very well that he hadn't answered any of his questions. "Ignore it? How am I supposed to ignore that there was a mountain of illegal drugs on my bed?"

"You ignored it before. I thought that meant you were cool with it." replied Evron. "Although, you were also naked and you're usually not cool with that."

"Well, I...I...I..." Greg spluttered, trying to explain exactly what his reaction had been before.

Evron rolled his eyes and did a little horizontal spin in the air. "I-I-I-I-I...,"he mocked, "If you wanna say something, say it. Don't stammer like a fucking idiot."

A scowl on his face, Greg replied, "I...was going through a little bit of stress earlier...My shower's not hot enough for me to feel it anymore, I broke another doorknob and I destroyed a towel. Then I saw you and...and I didn't feel like dealing with your issues..at the moment."

Evron's eyebrows slowly rose up his forehead. "Oh, I could see that. You were naked, dirty and angry. I mean, not a good combo. I mean, naked, clean and angry isn't much better but it's an improvement, you know. Besides, what if I had been eating when you walked in? You think I want balls in my face while I'm scarfing down some waffles? That's not cool, Greg. I wouldn't do that do you...unless you asked for it. Then maybe I'd think about it...but probably not. But still, a little consideration for other people goes a long way. Every little bit counts."

Confusion was visible on Greg's face as he tried to parse the stream of consciousness Evron had just shot at him in his traditional rapid-fire delivery. "...Huh?"

Evron made a noise that was a mix between a chuckle and a snort and smiled a bit wider. "Forget about it. You were talking about something before? Drugs or whatever?"

Greg paused to gather his thoughts, scratching the left side of his head as he racked his brain. "Uhhh..."'What was I talking about? Money? No...drugs. That's it!'

"Uh...yeah. Umm...Okay, this is serious business. I'm a hero. You're...supposed to be a hero, okay." Pausing to take a breath, Greg ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Look, I don't have a problem with weed but that stuff was not weed. Those were powders and pills and weird stuff that looked like hard drugs, man. Look, that stuff'll mess you up. I've seen what that does to people. It's real...messed..."

He found himself trailing off as Evron began to laugh right in his face, bobbing up and down in the air as he did so. His cash stopped floating beside him and fell to the ground, not a single bill falling out of place.

Greg's shoulders slumped and he let out a slow sigh. "Okay, what is it now? Huh? The hell's so funny?"

Dropping to the ground without even a hint of sound, Evron kept laughing. "I don't do drugs, man. Well, that's not really true. See, I would if I could. I really would, Nex...God knows I need it, but...part of being me", he gestured at his head, "white hair and all means that I'm less physical than I should be. My brain's not really real. If you took a scan of it, It'd look like a brain and feel like a brain but nothing brain-related going on up there. What I have is a mushy paperweight inside of my skull. No functional neurons to be messed with so...drugs really do nothing to me. So, I don't do drugs, I don't drink. Ehh...scratch that last one, I do drink but it's more because I like the taste."

Greg blinked. 'What? How does that even make sense?'

He tilted his head and blinked again, trying to wrap his head around what his mentor had just said. After he blinked again, he decided it was time to say something. "Your brain's...not working? Wha...Where...How do...how do you feel?"

"Pretty good usually. Kinda bored right now but that's mostly 'cause you're not a very exciting person to be around," replied Evron nonchalantly.

'What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck is he saying?' Greg tried to calm himself and let out a shaky breath of air. "I mean, how do you feel things? Or think? Or taste? Or do anything with your brain not working?" Greg's pitch increased as he spoke, nearly turning into a scream by the end.

Evron pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Oh...well, that's. Now that, I think about it, I guess I don't really know. Magic?"

Greg frowned internally as well as externally, his face shifting to match his thoughts. 'He's just fucking with me right now, isn't he?'

"Magic?" repeated Greg.

"Maaaaagic," Evron repeated, spreading his arms out as blue motes of light flew from them and disappeared.

Greg stared at Evron in silence for a few moments, watching as the albino teen continued to play with the sparkles emitting from his hands.

Sighing, Greg spoke again. "You're joking, aren't you? I actually thought you were telling the truth for a second," Greg replied with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "I mean, I literally almost believed you then you start talking about all this other craziness about your brain not working and magic. You're just messing around like always."

Evron's smile stayed in position as he stared at Greg. "You think I'm lying?"

Greg snorted and sat down on his bed. "Yeah, Ev, I think you're lying."

"Why do you think that?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Because...oh, I dunno, magic isn't real? How about that for a reason?"

"Magic exists, Greg. Maybe not in this universe or my universe, but it exists."

"Of course it does. And so do leprechauns and fairies."

Evron smirked at Greg's reply. "To be fair, you did fight a dragon on Monday."

Greg let out a huff. "That doesn't count and you know it. Magic doesn't exist. It's impossible."

Evron raised an eyebrow. "Really, like being able to throw a car used to be impossible or shooting blasts from your hands used to be impossible?" Evron questioned, his clothed mouth smile turning into a grin.

Setting his face into a frown, Greg crossed his arms. "I know what you're doing. Superpowers exist so they were always there. People just didn't know about them."

"Fine, Mr. I know Everything, how do your powers work? Explain to me how a 180 pound fifteen-year old can go from struggling with his own backpack to dead-lifting SUV's. Come on, smart guy."

"Well, uh...you gave me powers and those powers put energy into my body that make me stronger and let me push energy into my muscles and make myself even stronger...yeah," Greg finished his explanation with a somewhat hesitant look on his face, as if he wasn't satisfied with the explanation.

Evron clearly wasn't satisfied either. "Oh, really. That's the best you've got, kid? Fine, then. Where does that energy come from? How does it function?"

"I don't..."

"It made you stronger, right? How did it change you so quickly without killing you?"

"You're the one who did it! You tell me! I don't kn..." he shouted, only to be cut off again.

"How come you can control what it does? You can't tell the ATP in your mitochondria to work harder and produce more energy so that you're less tired. How is it you can control a foreign energy source that you've only had for a month?"

Greg nearly growled out the words this time. "I don't kno..."

"Let's forget about you for a moment. That Eedoloon guy?"

"Eidolon."

"Don't care," Evron sing-songed. "How do his powers work, huh? How come he can just get random powers? If he gets the right power, can he literally do anything?" Evron paused and gestured towards Greg, signaling for him to answer.

"Yeah, I...uh...I guess, maybe. It's possible," Greg hedged.

"Where does he get the power for it?"

Greg opened and closed his mouth several times, working his jaw but not really saying anything. "...The sun?"

Evron rolled his eyes. "The sun. Okay, Greg. He can theoretically do anything, right? As if." Evron paused to let out a snort. "If he can do anything with no real explanation for how and without a feasible power source, how do you explain that other than magic?"

"I...I...I...I..."

"Again with the I-I-I-I. Just because something is magical doesn't mean it doesn't follow it's own rules. The reason or substance behind those rules just doesn't have to make any logical sense. Look, magic is a shitty thing used by shitty people. It makes even less sense than superpowers and can do fucked up things with not even the tiniest explanation behind them. Now I'm not saying Elodoon-"

"Eidolon."

"Again, really don't care. I'm not saying Eldermoon's or my own powers are magical, I'm just saying it makes as much sense as any other explanation. Esoteric cosmic energy that lets you do random and completely unexplainable shit makes as much sense as magic as a power source."

Greg sat in silence for a moment before standing up abruptly. "Okay, you win. I'm not doing this. You're probably right. Who cares? I don't. I made plans last night with Sparky at Fugly Bob's for today. I'm going to eat a large amount of food and possibly see if I can still get high. You can just sit here, doing whatever the fuck you do when I'm not around."

Evron opened his mouth to say something but Greg interrupted him. "And no, I don't want to know what you get into when I'm not around. The truth would probably give me a panic attack anyway. Just...I dunno...cast your magic spells or whatever. I'm leaving. Adios."

Greg took a few steps toward to the door before he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Sighing, he turned around only to find some money pressed into his hand and a smiling Evron in his face. "Here's a couple bucks for the road. Never say I don't do anything for you."

Looking down at the wad of cash in his hand, Greg spread it out and was quickly able to tell that he had more in hand than a couple of bucks. 'A thousand dollars? Holy Shit, yes! I'm gonna buy so much food, a new computer, some games,' Greg thought to himself, thoughts focused on what he was going to buy until another, less selfish, thought flickered through his mind. 'Wait...I shouldn't take this.'

Fixing Evron with a questioning glance, Greg decided to ask him a question. "Ev, this money...Is it related to those drugs that you had before?"

Without hesitation, Ev eagerly nodded his head. "Completely."

Wincing at the immediate shutdown from Ev, Greg let out a sigh. 'Well, I can still take the money. The drugs are the only illegal part. Money's money, right?'

Sliding the ten bills into his wallet and tucking it into his pocket, Greg took a few steps toward the door. "Thanks for the cash, Ev. I won't spend it all in one place."

Evron blinked, still grinning. "Don't care if you do."

"Thanks again. See you later." Greg returned Evron's grin and headed out the door, leaving Evron standing alone in his room. For a moment, the white-haired teen said and did nothing. His eyelids drooped, leaving him looking bored and he rolled his eyes. "Hey, Greg. You forgot-"

A moment later, Greg rushed into the room. "I know, my phone..." Grabbing the device from the dresser, the young man flicked it on and glanced at the time. "10:45...still got time. See ya, Ev!" With that said, he rushed out again.

Evron shook his head and leaned backwards until his feet left the ground and he was once more floating on his back. Without even looking down, he waved at the money below him and in a flash of blue light, the money that Evron had appropriated from over a dozen dead Merchants vanished. He sighed and folded his arms behind his head, drifting around the room lazily like a bloated dolphin.

"What to do...what to do...Hmm...I wonder how my hometown is in this universe. It's probably still full of assholes."

The albino gave a thoughtful look before quickly shifting it into a grin. "Perfect reason to visit, then."

And just like that, the room was left empty as Evron vanished in a blue flash of light.


	40. Complications 2-12

Complications 2.12

* * *

"Crush a bit, little bit,  
Roll it up, take a hit..."

Earphones blaring, Axel "Sparky" Villanueva sang the lyrics out loud and danced a bit as he walked down the street towards Fugly Bob's.

"Feeling lit, feeling like,  
2 AM, summer night..."

Pausing at a crosswalk, he placed both hands in his pockets as he bobbed his head to the music.

"People told me to slow my roll,  
I'm screaming out 'Fuck that!  
I'mma just do what I want,  
Looking ahead, no turning back,"

An older white lady paused in what seemed like the middle of a midday shopping trip; what with all the bags in her hands, to sneer at him as he did a small dance. It might have been the cursing or it could have been the rapping or drug references in the song. Hell, it could have been his dance moves. He may have been gyrating a little, too. Actually, make that more than a little. Either way, he brushed his rather long hair out of his eyes and gave a wink to the old puta, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. He let out a raucous laugh as her face curled up as if she had eaten a raw lime, her lip curling in what might have been disgust, and she rushed away. He shook his head and and began dancing down the crosswalk as the word "walk" appeared over his head.

"I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know,  
Everything that shine ain't gotta be gold,  
Hey, I'll be fine once I get it, I''ll be gooo-ooood,"

 _"_ _ **HONK!"**_

"Fuckin' hell!" Sparky jumped to the side as a car revved forward and blared on the horn, startling him into nearly dropping his phone. Pulling out his earphones, he whipped around to face the impatient driver and found himself looking at a beat up sedan with a lime-green paintjob. "The hell's your problem, asshole?"

The driver stuck his head out of his window, exposing a rather red-faced man with a great deal of untrimmed facial hair. "Quit fucking dancing and move the fuck on!"

Fully aware that he was still in the middle of a crosswalk, Sparky pointed a finger at the timer. "You see that, shithead? I still got twenty fuckin' seconds to do whatever the fuck I want. Vete a chingar!" Flipping the guy off, Sparky turned around and kept walking. "Cabron!"

Stopping at the entrance to the fast food joint, Sparky glanced down at the phone in his hand. 'Damn, 2:48...yeesh. Told him 12 was too early for me. Didn't even have time to get ripped this morning.' Putting his phone away, Sparky pulled open the door and walked into Fugly Bob's with a smile on his face, head still bobbing slowly as he looked for the familiar tufts of golden blond hair that belonged to his friend. His smile began to fade a bit as he took a look around the well-sized eatery.

'The hell? When is this place ever empty?' As Brockton Bay's premier burger joint, Fugly Bob's never suffered from a lack of business. Sparky doubted if they'd ever had a slow day. As he walked in, he heard what sounded like a low rumbling noise. 'What the hell is that?'A small crowd had formed around a booth and as he walked closer, he could actually make out what that rumbling noise actually was. "Go...Go...Go...Go...Go..."

Sparky tilted his head, slowly walking forward until he could clearly see what the big deal was about. "Come on. Yo, lemme see." Slowly pushing his way through the rather tight circle, Sparky managed to at least get his head through to the other side, only for his mouth to literally drop as he saw what all the fuss was about.

The massive mountain of meat known as the Challenger was a burger the same way that the Empire State was just a building. A double helping of two pound patties, six hunks of bacon, eight slices of American Cheese, two whole sliced tomatoes, an enormous helping of pickles, a massive onion sliced into slivers, ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise and something that maybe could have been lettuce before it was mixed with the rest of all this mess; all of this barely held together by two eighteen inch buns. It was more than a burger. As everyone in Brockton knew, it could be called the God of Burgers. It also came with a large side of fries but aside from Chubster, nobody ever wanted them. Something about 'not willing to risk it.'

A normal man could not even attempt it without giving up by his fifth bite. Some who claimed to be better would give up by their tenth. Very few finished the burger. Even fewer finished within the time limit of two hours. All of this just for the honor of a free T-shirt, a Fugly Bob's coupon book, and their picture on the Fugly Wall of Fame. The wall of fame itself was rather sparse as the only person to have actually completed the challenge since Chubster had last visited was Aegis and even he struggled to finish the monolithic meat stack.

Sparky watched Greg, a large white apron covering his clothes and hair held back by a hair net, as he held the monster of a burger to his face and forcibly tore away at the behemoth piece by piece.

"No fuckin' way, broh," Sparky whispered.

Judging from the two large trays in front of him filled with nothing but fries and eighteen inch grease stains, Greg was on his third and he didn't look like he was stopping anytime soon.

The chanting began to increase in volume as Greg sped up his bites. Chunk after chunk of bun and patty dissapeared down his throat in a superhuman display of gluttony. When only a fist sized portion of the burger remained, the people began to chant even louder, their voices rising to a crescendo.

Picking up the last piece, Greg held it up to his mouth and paused for a moment. An odd look entered his eyes and he dropped the last remnants of the hamburger to his tray and his hand raced up to his mouth. The crowd gasped and Sparky's eyes widened. 'With all that food in him, this place gonna be straight painted in vomit. Wait a minute...' Sparky tried to reach into his pocket to grab his phone but found that with all the people pressing against him, the effort was pointless. 'Bruh, you better not. I can't even record this shit right now. Hold it in, broh.'

To Sparky's relief, Greg didn't dissapoint.

Instead of throwing up the several pounds of food in his system, Greg let out a massive burp, the release of gas loud enough that it was almost shocking. Grabbing the last piece of his final Challenger, Greg tossed it down his throat and the crowd exploded with cheers. People were jumping up and down, screaming their heads off in excitement at someone else beating the Challenger. A few had even gotten their phones out to take pictures.

With all the moving around, the crowd had actually loosened up enough for Sparky to get loose and step forward towards Greg. "Que onda, blanco? What's good?"

Greg looked up at him and Sparky snorted as he saw Greg's face covered with cheese, condiments and a lot of grease. His eyes, already somewhat dazed from the massive intake of food, drooped even lower as he frowned at his friend. "You're late."

Sparky's lips slowly curled upwards, transforming his smile into a grin. "I told you I-"

"Oh my God! You actually ate three of my babies! Unbelievable!" A large man wearing a hair net and a rather stained apron bounded in front of Sparky, cutting him off. The man grabbed Greg's hand, not paying any attention to the greasy mess that coated his hands, and gave it a firm shake. Sparky forced himself to hold back a snicker as the man's voluminous body jiggled as he pumped Greg's arm. "When you ordered three, I thought it was a joke but this is just...well... it's unbelievable!"

Letting go of Greg's hand, the large man pointed a thumb at his chest. "I'm Donny Lawton, owner and Chef here at Fugly Bob's. Sorry about making you pay upfront for your food. It's just well...you know...you didn't really look like the type to finish one of my babies, let alone three of the suckers."

"I...I was just hungry." Greg's wide grin seemed to betray the soft tone of his words.

Donny clapped him on the back and let out a heavy laugh. "I was just hungry, he says. I was just hungry? Boy, nobody who has ever ordered that burger has ever been 'just hungry.' You need to be starving to death to make room for my baby." The man shook his head, soft mutters of 'just hungry' still audible from him. " Anyway, boy, about that refund. I'll get it to you. But first, can I get your name, son?"

"Greg. Greg Veder."

Donnie blinked and raised a grease-covered hand to his chin. "Wait a second. Are you that news boy?"

"Huh?"

"The new cape. The one on the news fighting Lung. Are you the boy?"

Greg nodded in response. "That..." Greg paused, lifting a hand to his mouth as he let out a small burp, "Yeah, that was me."

Donny almost jumped up into the air as his eyes lit up in surprise. "Unbelievable! Let's get you a refund, a t-shirt and a spot on my wall. Come on!" A busty waitress walked up and grabbed hold of Greg's hand and the three of them began to walk over to the aforementioned Fugly Wall of Fame where another waitress was already setting up a camera.

Greg turned to face Sparky and gave him a shrug. "Just sit down, man. This won't take long."

Sparky returned the shrug and sat down at Greg's booth, watching as his friend was led away by the waitress. Well actually, he was watching the waitress's ass as she walked away. Her chest wasn't the only thing large about her.

Placing the earbuds back in his ears, Sparky nodded his head and sang along softly as the song came to a close.

"I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know,  
Everything that shine ain't gotta be gold,  
Hey, I'll be fine once I get it, I''ll be gooo-ooood"

Less than ten minutes later, Greg dropped himself into the seat opposite sparky. His face was clean of grease, the Fugly Bob's apron was gone and the hairnet holding his hair had been removed. All in all, Greg actually looked presentable, instead of the grease covered mess he had been when Sparky walked into the place. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Sparky spoke first.

"Bro, that was..."

Greg nodded. "I know."

"No, no. That was fucking A', broh."

"Right!"

"You murked three of those fuckers and you did it hella fast!" Grabbing a handful of some fries he had ordered, Sparky stuffed them in his mouth, chewing quickly.

Greg shrugged, a sluggish response to Sparky's excitement. "I got here at like 11:30 and I figured you weren't going to show up. I was hungry so I ordered some food."

Sparky raised an eyebrow at Greg's words. "I'm sorry...some food?" 'More like three mountains of food. The fuck is he talking about?'

Greg shrugged again. "Some food. At least I'm not hungry anymore."

"Motherfucker, you better not be. That was enough food to feed a family of like twenty people. Did your powers turn you into Chubster 2?"

"I've been getting really hungry over the past month and it's kinda been getting worse the stronger I get, I think," Greg replied with a sigh. "I mean...I don't even notice when I'm really hungry until I'm like almost starving."

Sparky hadn't heard the second sentence. In fact, he hadn't really paid much attention to what Greg had said at all, with one exception. "The past month, broh? When I texted you last night, you said you got your powers on Monday."

Greg shook his head slowly as Sparky stared him down. "No...no, that...what...I didn't say that."

Brushing some hair away from his eyes, Sparky frowned at his friend. "You did, broh."

"I definitely didn't say that," Greg repeated. "Dude, you must have been real blazed last night. What I said was that I had fought Lung on Monday. I got my powers a month ago."

Sparky clicked his tongue before shaking his head in resignation. "A whole month, though? And you didn't tell me? Not cool, broh."

"I wasn't gonna go around telling people, you know. I was trying to get my stuff under control first," Greg replied slowly, scratching the bald part of his head.

"And you couldn't trust me? I'm like your best friend, broh. Fuck that, I'm like your only friend, broh."

Greg gave Sparky a slight frown. "Hey! That's not...eh...I guess, yeah."

"I mean, broh, you pissed off the other nerds and you're not geeky enough for the geeks. You got half the school pissed off at you before you learned to shut the fuck up. Hell, you pissed off most of the teachers too. I fuckin' stuck with you, broh, and you can't trust me. That's fucked up, broh." As Sparky finished his minor rant, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, still glaring at his friend.

"Okay, first of all," began Greg with a roll of his eyes, "you only hung out with me because you were high and bored and you didn't want to hang out with Merchants. So, don't act like you did me a huge favor there. Second, that's kinda the reason I couldn't tell you. You're high, like all the damn time. Like 95 percent of the time, you're either really fucking blazed or thinking about it. I mean, I was trying to keep a secret, dude. I mean, come on, Sparks, it made sense not to tell you."

"Okay, broh, not true. I don't care how fuckin' ripped I get. I'm no snitch. That's wrong and a straight insult, broh."

Greg blinked, a look of slight surprise filling his face for a moment. "Uh...I'm sorry, Sparks. I didn't mean it like that, man."

"Whatever," Sparky scoffed. He turned away from Greg and munched on some more fries in silence before his eyes roamed up to Greg's head. "The fuck's up with your hair? You going Empire on me with that fucked up undercut?"

Greg twitched and a hand flew up to his head, as if an attempt to cover the hairless portion of it. "It's...No, I'm not. Most of the hair on my body got burnt off. Y'know...Monday."

"Monday?" Sparky tilted his head in confusion. "The fuck happened on Monday?"

Greg gave his friend a look of bewilderment. "What? Lung, dude. Lung happened."

Sparky blinked for a few seconds. "...Oh, yeah. Fuckin' Lung, broh. That's mad crazy.'

"Okay...did you smoke this morning, Sparky? You seem weird."

"Nah, nah, I just woke up at like 11:00. Took a shower, ate some breakfast. Ran down here. Everything's good now. Got really blazed last night, though," Sparky replied with a shake of his head. He kinda got what Greg was talking about. He was still feeling a buzz from the joint he had blazed around three in the morning but he wasn't really high. Well, not yet at least. Gesturing to his friend's hair, he continued with a "So, Lung really fucked you up that bad? You look fine now. Couldn't have been serious."

Greg nodded his head rapidly. "Trust me, dude. It was. I looked like a god damn burger, my hand was...fuck, you couldn't tell that it used to be a hand, my leg was ruined and I was bleeding all over. It was Evil Dead with me as the fucking zombie."

"Dude, broh, gross. I mean-" Sparky grimaced, his expression twisting into one of disgust. "I'm eating here." As he said that, Sparky shoveled some more ketchup-covered fries into his mouth. "Seriously, not cool but..." Pausing to give his friend a once over, he spoke again. "You look fine now. I mean, hell, you're almost buff. You look real good. No homo."

Greg shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Healing real fast is one of my powers."

"One of your powers? What else can you do?"

Sparky watched as a smile formed on his friend's face as Greg began to tell him about his powers. Seconds later, Sparky had to call bullshit.

"Fuck that! I call bullshit!"

Greg gave a blink at his friend's sudden eruption and glanced around as several people in the diner turned to look at them. "Dude," he replied in a hushed tone, "We're in public. Tone it down."

Sparky rolled his eyes and grabbed another handful of fries. "Fine, but I'm not gonna fucking whisper. That's B.S. No fucking way can you do all that."

Greg smirked at his friend's disbelief. "Yeah, I can. How do you think I took down Lung? Strength, speed, blasts, shield."

Sparky nodded; well, not so much nodded as he tilted his head side to side as if rolling his thoughts around in his head. "So, what you're telling me is that you're all glowy and strong? Pew-pew with the lasers and shit. So like Laserdream and Glory Girl? You now, without the flying?"

Simply nodding as well, Greg replied with a simple "Yeah."

"And the tits, yeah?" Sparky smirked, nodding at a busty waitress with a low neckline a few tables away from them.

Greg snorted. "Yeah, minus the tits, dude." Sparky smirks as he notices Greg try his best not to look but frankly, Greg wasn't all that good at using peripheral vision. Not like he was, at least. His eyes were obviously focused on her chest. Sparky was different than his friend, though. Turning his head to face the waitress, he let his eyes travel across her figure, lingering on the hourglass shape of her hips until he locked eyes with her.

She stared at him, one eyebrow raised and lips pulled down in a disapproving frown. His eyes focused on her mouth for a moment, noticing the small beauty mark on her left side. Apart from that, her skin didn't have a mark on it. Locking eyes with her again, Sparky winked at her and let his tongue scrape the bottom of his lip just long enough for her to see it but not long enough to be crude. 'Just like mama said.'

He knew he had no chance with her. She was in her early twenties and at least a seven overall (eight if she cleaned herself up) and he was a scrawny mixed kid with skater hair. Still, what was the harm in trying? He raised a hand to his ear and made the simple gesture of "call me", hoping to get a reaction from her. To his surprise, she actually smirked, letting out a little snort as she did so. She winked back and walked away, swaying her hips as she did so and attracting more than a bit of attention from most of the guys around her.

'Looks like I caught me a pedophile.'Sparky smiled and shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. Reaching across the table, he took a swig of his soda and waved a hand in Greg's face to attract his attention. Greg started in surprise and Sparky almost choked on his drink at the look on his face. "Aye yo, man. That booty got you drooling?"

Greg shook his head quickly. "Me? What? No. What? No..." he said as he wiped the drool from his chin.

"Whatever, broh." Sparky took another swig of his soda and leaned back in his chair. "But seriously, that's crazy. Those are a shit load of powers. No homo but whose dick did you have to suck to get powers like that, broh?"

There was silence between the two of them and Sparky noticed Greg seeming to avoid looking him directly in the eyes. "Broh?"

Greg tilted his head to the side and let out a low whistle. "Funny story, actually. Remember that guy I told you about?"

'Funny story? What's so funny about...oh.' Sparky's eyes slowly widened as he realized what Greg was saying. "Broh..."

Greg shook his head rapidly, the hair on his right side falling into his face as he did so. "Nonononononono...not like that, dude. Definitely not that. No homo, man."

"Ok...No homo. Go ahead," Sparky replied hesitantly, still unsure of where this conversation was going.

"Well," Greg brushed the hair out of his eyes and let out a sigh, "You do remember the guy who was helping me work out, right?"

Sparky raised an eyebrow. "Some white boy named Everett or...uh...Ronnie or something? White hair, right?"

Nodding, Greg leaned forward. "Yeah. Evron..."

"Yeah?" Sparky looked Greg in the eye, watching the blonde as he seemed to struggle with his words.

"He...he's that same guy who fought the Simurgh that day in Australia."

As Greg blurted out those words, Sparky snapped to attention, sitting straight up in his seat. Surprise was evident on his face and he blinked rapidly, trying to process the statement. A month later and the internet was still buzzing over who the strange white-haired cape could be. His dramatic appearance combined with his powerful showing against the Simurgh and his sudden exit had sparked interest that didn't seem to be dying down any time soon.

An undercurrent of doubt ran through Sparky's mind but it was drowned out by all the burning questions that needed answers immediately, one of them of particular importance to the hispanic stoner. "You sucked Mystery Cape's dick?"

Greg let out a groan and face-palmed with a loud smack. "It's not like..."

"It's cool, broh," Sparky interrupted, " Do you, broh. Do you."

Simply giving him a look of exasperation, Greg tried to speak again. "No, man, listen..."

Sparky wasn't done, though. "Just a couple more questions, broh. Did you get the powers from sucking the dick itself or did you have to swallow too?

"Sparky, seriously..."

"How long did you do it for? He had the balls to fight Ziz so dude probably wasn't a quickshot. Did the carpet match the drapes?"

"Sparky..."

"Just wait, broh. One more question and this one...this one's serious." Sparky pushed his mostly finished meal away from him and leaned in close. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, "Did you neglect the balls?"

Greg groaned and dropped his forehead to the table, creating an audible 'ding' as his hard head met the metal table. He raised his head slightly and upon seeing Sparky's wide grin let out another groan.

Sparky laughed out loud, partly from his own jokes and mostly from his friend's reactions. "It's cool, broh. I don't care that you did it. I mean, you can't really say 'no homo' anymore but it's cool. I'd probably suck dick for powers like yours." Sparky paused, eyes brightening as a thought popped into his head. "Fuck that, I **would** suck dick for powers. Hell, for your powers, I'd do it twice. Where is this guy? I'm gonna suck his dick right now."

"Sparky!" Greg hissed. Upon seeing that he had caught his friend's attention, Greg continued. "I didn't suck anybody's dick."

"Okay, then what happened? And how did you get all..."Sparky paused to point at Greg's visible muscles under his tight black shirt, "like this?"

"Well, here's how it happened." From that point, Greg told Sparky everything that took place the day he found Evron without skimping on the details. Sparky blinked a few times and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but ultimately kept himself quiet.

As Greg stopped talking, Sparky let a few moments of silence go between them, allowing him to mull over the insanity Greg had just told him, before speaking again. "That it?"

"I'm pretty sure he also wants me to take over the world."

"Huh..." Sparky nodded thoughtfully. "So, no blowjob, then?"

Greg gave him a flat stare. "No blowjob."

Sparky stared at his friend for a moment and simply sat there as Greg gave him a look that was too flat to be called a proper glare. "Let me get this straight. So, a cape who says he's a hero from the future of another universe shows up in your room covered with what he says is Nazi blood, gives you powers and then tells you that he wants to take over the world and you just go along with it? That all sounds legit to you?"

Greg nodded. "He showed me proof, though. Other capes and data and video. His world is so awesome, broh. They have hover cars...even though you have to be rich to afford them. But still, hover cars! Cars drive themselves, too. They have like super-medicine and robots and V.I." At Sparky's confused expression, Greg elaborated. "V.I's kinda like A.I. but dumber 'cause A.I's illegal or something but not always. It's weird and legal."

"Ohhh..."

"Yeah. I mean, like it's crazy. There's like a fifty percent chance of getting powers, no matter how weak they are but most people don't try to be heroes or bad guys. Less than 1% of people, really. It's so amazing, dude. They have cities on the moon, cities on the bottom of the ocean, cities in space, cities on Mars! They stopped global warming and overpopulation and world hunger and crime...well, crime is...uh...They still have villains, so...yeah. But still, it's amazing, Sparky! It's a perfect future and I can do that here. And Ev wants to help me do it too," Greg's face lit up as he spoke and his wide grin made Sparky feel somewhat...uneasy.

He gave a shrug, injecting a bit of nonchalance into his tone. "I dunno, that future doesn't seem that great."

Greg blinked, obviously expecting Sparky to show a bit more excitement. "Uhh...well...uh..." He fumbled for a bit and Sparky looked at him, wondering what he would say next. Something seemed to catch Greg's eye and he turned his head to face the window. Sparky did the same and for a moment, they both stared at a wall tagged with the infamous red and black block lettering insignia of the Empire. Greg turned away from the window and looked Sparky in the eye, a small smile on his face. "Ev told me that the last President was a half-black, half-Mexican woman."

Sparky nodded thoughtfully. "Progreso*. Well, I'm sold. Think this guy can hook me up too? If you're gonna save the world, I wanna be there." 'At least to make sure this guy ain't lying to you.' Sparky thought to himself.

Greg smiled. "Definitely. Ev's cool like that...when he's not being a douche, at least."

"Douche? How?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Guy calls our time primitive. Says we're living like a bunch of cavemen and that he can't believe people actually lived like this. And that was when he was just talking about the TV. What the hell is Ultra Hyper-Definition anyway? And don't even get me started about the Wi-fi. It literally took a second for a video to buffer after it stopped and he was whining about it. I mean, come on."

Shrugging again, Sparky replied. "Well, dude's from three hundred years from now, right? I mean, if I was stuck in the Constitution days, I'd get kinda pissed too."

"Yeah, but we're not like that bad. We have, like, uh...hold up." Greg paused and stuck a hand in his jeans pocket as a loud rapid beeping noise started blaring.

' _bip-bip-bip-bip-bip-bip'_

As Greg pulled out a black and white phone from his pants, Sparky's eyes widened as he caught sight of it. With a black, silver and white design, curved edges, and a large screen, the thin smartphone was impressive; especially when he compared it to his brick of a Nokia. On the back of the sleek phone, the image of a silver crown was visible; something that everyone in Brockton knew was the logo of Medhall Pharmaceuticals.

Before Sparky could get a chance to geek out over his friend's phone, Greg gasped. "Shit."

"What happened?"

Greg put a finger to his lips, signaling his friend to be quiet, and glanced around the diner. With that done, he leaned in close. "Look."

Greg turned his phone over for Sparky to see the message Greg on the screen.

* * *

 **Code P10-47 at the Docks near the Trainyard.**

 **Explosion occurred.  
Parahuman Suspects Likely.**

* * *

 **PRT notified.** **Code 10-66 at the Docks near the Trainyard.**

 **Shots Fired.**  
 **Officers en route.**

* * *

 **Code 10-48 at the Docks near the Trainyard.**

 **Fire**  
 **Fire Department En Route**

* * *

"Shit." Sparky couldn't help but parrot Greg's response as he read the messages. He glanced up at Greg. "You going?

Greg nodded and jumped up from the booth. "Hell yeah. This is my life now."

Sparky grinned at Greg, standing up as well. "Fuckin' A, broh."

"I know." Greg grinned back at his friend. "Here, hold this for me," he said, as he tossed two small items to his friend.

Sparky caught the items and frowned. "Your wallet and keys? Why..."

"Look, my clothes tend to get ruined when I fight. Just hold those for me, okay." Greg seemed to think for a moment before shaking his head. "You know what, today's my treat. Pay for your food and drop them off at my house for me...or don't. I'll get them back anyway. See ya, dude." Greg walked out of the diner and prepared to start running only to stop as he heard the "ding" of the diner door open behind him and a call of "Hey, Greg" from Sparky.

Looking over his shoulder, he replied with a "Hm?"

Sparky raised a fist towards Greg "Don't die, broh."

Greg snorted and met fists with Sparky. "Same to you, Sparks. Hey, bro, watch this!" Greg took a single step and with a sudden breeze, took off like a rocket. Sparky spat out the hair in his mouth and gaped as Greg bounded into the air, easily landing on top of a building from the ground. "Fuckin' A, broh," he whispered in shock.

As Sparky walked back into the diner, he was left struck with how much Greg had changed. Hearing about his powers was one thing but seeing them? Fuck, that changed the whole damn game. Just watching that display...his speed...the way he jumped that high. Powers were...powers didn't seem real until you saw them up close. Blondie was tough now; fighting Lung had definitely proved he wasn't just a fast talker anymore. He didn't need Sparky watching his back, getting people to lay off him for acting kinda weird. Fuck, he didn't need anything from Sparky the way he was right now.

The smile on his friend's face when he had told him about that Evron guy and all his promises was just...fuck. He might be wrong but fuck it if he didn't feel like he was being replaced. This past month, he had been wondering why Greg had kept making excuses for why he couldn't hang out but now...fuck it, now he knew. Shaking his head, Sparky sat down and continued to think. 'I'm worthless right now. Greg's doing fine and he's got a new friend. What am I even-'

"Excuse me."

Sparky blinked at the sound of a low voice right next to him. He turned his head to the side and as if by magic, all his thoughts of inferiority jumped out the window as he looked up at the rather large chest of the older waitress he had been eye-flirting with earlier. "Excuse me, You done eating?"

He glanced over at the empty burger wrapper, empty 60 oz cup of Coke and the plate of half-finished fries and onion rings before looking back up at the waitress. "Yeah."

"Here's the bill." She placed the small folder on the table and Greg opened it.

"Twelve dollars? For a Fugly Deluxe? You guys raised the prices or something?"

The waitress gave him a coy smile and played with her necklace, her hand roaming around her cleavage sending Sparky's mind into places that could only be defined as _interesting_. "What's wrong, little man? Too rich for your blood?"

"Nah, chica," Sparky lied like a rug, eyes still on her chest. "I got plenty of money. I always got stacks, girl." 'A stack of ten one-dollar bills, at least.'

"Do you?"

"Oh, I do. It's all about the paper for me. I live that life. Name's Axel...Axel Villanueva." Sparky introduced himself, biting his lip and squinting at the woman.

She lifted an eyebrow at his introduction. "Marie. You know for a second I thought you were just a high school kid. A cute one, but still. Guess I was wrong. I've never known a kid to have all that money."

"You know it, girl. I ain't never stressed about money." Scoffing, Sparky reached into his pocket and grabbed Greg's bulky wallet, slamming it on the table. "I'm set, girl."

Marie's smile widened and she leaned in close, giving him a much closer look at her chest. "A guy like you," Marie began, her words making Greg wrench their eyes away from her chest, "would have no problem..."

He found his mouth drying up as Marie leaned into him, her voluminous chest pressing against his. 'Holy shit, she wants the D! She wants it!'

She leaned forward until her lips were at his ear and continued, her voice husky and breathless "...with giving a girl like me a big...", Sparky gulped, "fat..."

Sparky said a quick and silent 'Thank you!' to God, Jesus, Mary and Scion.

"...tip, right?

Blinking in confusion, Sparky stared at her for a moment. "...huh?"

Marie tilted her head and ran a hand up and down her necklace again, drawing his attention. "I said, a big fat tip. Y'know, for excellent _service_." She stretched the last word out a bit longer than it should have been, adding a playful lilt to her already husky tone.

Realization came to Sparky immediately. 'This bitch is playing me...but fuck it, it's working!'

Sparky looked up again to see Marie 'innocently' sucking on her finger.

'Damn it, she's good!' Sparky thought, unable to tear his eyes away. 'She is smooth. She deserves a tip just for that, right? Yeah.'

Sparky opened Greg's leather wallet and peered inside, expecting to see at most fifty dollars.

'Why does this fucker have this much in his wallet? Whatever, I'll pay him back.' Shaking off his surprise, Greg peeled off a fifty and handed it to Marie.

"Thanks, Axel. I'll be back to pick up your dishes." With a wink, she walked away, swaying her hips as she moved.

Sparky was pretty sure her exaggerated hip movement was an added thanks for his tip and he made sure to watch until she disappeared into the kitchen. 'Damn, that bitch was bad. Now,' Sparky turned his attention back to Greg's wallet. 'How much do you have in here, broh?'

'...450..470...475...480...500...Damn, white boy's hella paid. 600...650...700...blue?' Sparky halted his counting as a small, shiny object fell from Greg's wallet. With lightning quick reflexes, he shot out his arm to catch it, only for the item to from his grasp and fall to the ground. "Goddamit, fuck me if I'm wrong but that looked like a ring." Sparky clicked his tongue and sat up from the booth. Walking over to where he had seen it land, Sparky glanced at the floor, hoping to catch sight of it. 'Where the fuck is that thing? Come on...I don't feel like explaining to broh like I lost some expensive shit. Where the hell is...oh, fuck me!'

Sparky groaned internally as he caught sight of the blue glint underneath an empty booth. "Goddamn it." Getting on his knees, Sparky ducked under the table and grabbed the thing only to hiss in pain as he stood up a bit too quickly. "Fucking fuck! Fucking metal tables...shitshitshit...shit...what the?"

Sparky's words trailed away as he raised the small object in his hand closer to his face. It was a small blue gemstone that seemed to glow and sparkle the more he held it up into the light. The more he looked at it, the more he felt that the gen was...something about it...something about it was just off. He brought it even closer to his face and...

'What the...' He noticed something **inside** the blue crystal, tiny white lights...so many tiny white lights...so many he couldn't even count just slowly spinning around. The longer he looked, the faster it seemed to move, the spinning gradually getting faster and faster and the more the gem seemed to glow. He tried to put it down...tried to look away...tried to close his eyes...but he couldn't. He **couldn't.** He **needed** to know what this was...needed to understand it...to find out...why...he...couldn't...look...away...

"OH MY GOD!"

Sparky jumped as the sound of Donny's booming voice and sounds of shock from the other patrons shocked him out of his daze. Quickly spinning around, he caught sight of the large man waddling toward the entrance of the diner. He turned his gaze to the door and winced as he saw what had shocked Donny and the others.

'Holy...' A girl, roughly about his age, stood at the entrance with her head down and her arms clutching the glass door like her life depended on it. Sparky winced as he gave her a once-over. Her clothes...well, despite the dirt and grime that covered them, they were quite easily recognized as the uniform for Immaculata, the Catholic private school his mother had wanted him to go to a while back. She took a step forward, only for her legs to tremble. After a moment's pause, she tried again and crumbled to the floor with a cry of pain.

Reaching the entrance just in time, Donny caught the girl by the arm and held her up with his other husky arm at the small of her back. The other diners and a few waitresses got out of their seats and stepped forward to offer some assistance while others simply craned their heads. Sparky actually took a few steps forward before rethinking the action. 'What am I gonna do that they can't?'

"Little girl, you alright?" Donny asked, lowering his voice a bit. "Say somethin', c'mon."

She raised her head slowly and Sparky caught sight of her face. Her eyes were dull and unfocused while the skin around them looked puffy and swollen as if she had been crying. Underneath her eyes, there were dark, visible circles and her face was rather pale. 'Shit, what happened to her? Fuck, she's Asian so maybe she's running from the Empire or something,' reasoned Sparky.

"Hey, c;mon, say somethin'," repeated Donny. "What happened to you, girl?"

She tilted her head up a bit more and took a raspy breath before speaking. "..."

Donny blinked and turned his head so his ear was right over her face. "What?"

Sparky took a few more steps forward without thinking, hoping to see if he could hear what she was saying.

Donny turned to one of the waitresses waiting by the wall, a black girl with her hair in a tight braid. "Angie, you called 911 yet?"

The waitress nodded. "Already did, Donny."

"Good." The large man nodded before turning back to the girl in his arms still struggling to catch her breath. "Come on, girl. Speak up, please. What's wrong?"

The girl said nothing for a moment before taking in a deep breath. "...tasukete...bakudan...atama...tasukete...bakudan...atama...tasukete...tasukete...tasukete*"

Donny stared at the girl with a confused expression as if unsure of what she said. "What?"

'That was Japanese...right? Yeah...that...that was definitely Japanese,' Sparky thought to himself. He had taken Japanese class before, he and Greg together. However, he was no good at it. He was better at math, chemistry and physics while Greg was better at English, Foreign Languages and History. 'Okay, what did she say? Tasukete...I know that one, right? Tasukete? Tasukete means...pork? No...pork was...tonkatsu. Gym? No...that's taiku. Air? Bored? No! Fuck it!' Sparky frowned. 'Wish Greg was here to help...wait? Help? Help! So she needs help? Of course she does? But what about the other...'

Sparky's thoughts trailed off as a sound hit his eardrums. It was a sharp, high-pitched whining that was irritating in the same way a mosquito's buzzing was. He glanced around, looking for the source of the noise and he wasn't the only one as half the restaurant did the same. Sparky winced as the sound jumped in pitch and then suddenly stopped. "What the hell was..."

The words died in his throat as several things happened at once. The girl's back arched and she let out a scream almost as high pitched as the noise from earlier and the entire room was washed out to near absolute white. The girl's body exploded, as if in slow motion, crumbling like ash as a white sphere of destruction expanded from her skull. Donny was next, his body charring before his eyes even had time to widen in shock. Sparky watched in abject horror as the sphere slowly engulfed more and more diners and he tried to turn around and run.

Nothing happened. His legs refused to respond. Everything refused to respond. He couldn't move. Why couldn't he move? Was he paralyzed? What was happening? His eyes roamed around the room watching the blueish-white sphere expand before his eyes and noticed a cup thrown into the air and the liquid that had spilled from it hanging as if suspended from something. 'I'm not paralyzed. Everything's just slow, like it's frozen...but why?'

Sparky's eyes, apparently the only part of him that was free to move, noticed a blue glow that somehow managed to outshine the one inching towards him that seemed to be emanating from...

'My hand?'

In his enclosed fist, a bluish light was glowing brighter with every passing moment but other than that...nothing.

Sparky's eyes looked up as the sphere drew ever closer. He felt like crying, kicking and screaming at the unfairness of it all. This wasn't fair; it wasn't right. He hadn't done anything, hadn't hurt anybody. Why did this have to happen?

The expanding wave was inches away now and Sparky tried in vain to shut his eyes.

'I wish I was anywhere but here.'

The sphere hit him and for one painful instant, he wished he could scream.


	41. Interlude 2h: ?

Interlude: ?

* * *

'233...234...235...236...'

Today was a good day. He took a slow breath to relax himself, his tightly clenched gloved hands slowly loosening. He continued walking, the twin duffel bags on each shoulder hitting his sides with every step. Today was a good day.

The soft 'drip...drip' of his blood on the stairs was ignored. He'd clean it on the way down. Right now was not the time. He took another slow breath. Today was a good day.

'249...250...251...'

Up and up he went, higher and higher with each and every step, choosing not to focus on the pain from the hastily bandaged wound on his trembling leg. Instead, he kept counting the steps, choosing to put more conscious thought into something he would have normally done without noticing. He needed to focus on something else. **(FOCUS)** '254...255...256...'

He knew without checking that the time was exactly 3:56. He knew things like that. He liked to count. He liked many things, actually. Cleaning, cooking, studying, training, music...his hobbies were not many but they kept him busy.

'260...261...262...263...'

Busy was what he liked being. There was no point in being idle unless you had set an appropriate time out to do so. Everything had a proper place where it should be and a proper time in which to do it. It was good. It was a routine and routines were good. Routines made him feel good. Routines made his days good. '264...265...266...'

That was another one of his hobbies. Routines. He liked making them, he liked following them, he liked adjusting them when necessary and only when necessary **.**

What he _despised_ was being forced to break them. It irritated him to set aside a schedule, a routine **(ORDER)**...but that didn't matter. He could prioritize. However, that was only when he chose to set aside a routine. Someone...something...outside of himself, that was rather different.

Today was a good day. Today was a Friday. Fridays were a special day of the week for him. Set aside solely for six long hours of musical practice. He had a routine set aside for that as well.

* * *

 **4 AM:** Wake up and go for a run. **Completed.**

 **5 AM:** Return home at 5 for an English Muffin and a hard boiled egg. Drink eight ounces of milk and sixteen ounces of water. Take a shower. **Completed.**

 **6 AM:** Perform morning warm-up exercises. Take supplements and medication. **Completed.**

 **7 AM:** Clean the apartment. **Completed.**

 **8 AM:** Meditation. **Completed.**

 **9 AM:** Combat training. **Completed.**

 **12 PM:** Weapon maintenance. **Completed.**

 **3 PM:** Violin practice.

* * *

He rather enjoyed practicing the violin, actually. The minutiae involved in keeping the speed of the bow constant while increasing or decreasing the speed all the while maintaining the perfect angle to recreate the tones made famous by Bach, Mendelssohn and so many others...

It kept him peaceful. It made him happy. It kept him busy. It made him feel good.

He had played for approximately twenty-six minutes when he was forcefully interrupted. He knew this because he had been counting. He always counted. '280..290...294...295...296...'

He regained consciousness roughly a minute later. There was a powerful ringing in his ears, making him feel groggy...dazed, that only seemed to intensify as he sat up.

He ignored it.

He spat blood to the ground and noted that he must have bit his own tongue at some point. He highly doubted his mouth would taste like coins otherwise.

From the ringing in his ears, he was aware that he was at least partially deafened but for a moment, he didn't understand why. That moment passed as the pain **(NO PAIN)** quickly jarred him back into focus. It was an odd kind of pain, as if the ringing in his ears had shifted into every part of his body.

It took him only a few moments to evaluate and understand the situation. He had been sitting on a stool while practicing his violin. There had been a loud crack, nothing reminiscent of the sound of an explosive and a force had sent him flying backwards. That same force had ripped a hole in the wall of his apartment and destroyed most of his furniture, including his stool. Splinters of that same stool had embedded themselves in his leg. It took him over five minutes to remove the foreign elements from his leg, disinfect the wound and bandage it, all the while resisting the urge to scowl at his slow movement and the twitching muscle.

When he finished applying first aid to his leg, he gingerly stood up and forced himself to walk to the large gap in his wall and peer outside. The ground below was engulfed into a full-fledged riot with smoke and fire filling the streets. Other buildings had holes similar to his own, as well as being adorned with ice, crystals, glass or wreathed in flames.

Men, women and children wearing the colors of the ABB rampaged through the streets, armed with guns, bats, grenades and what seemed to be Molotov cocktails. He couldn't hear much other than the faint roaring of the crowd but he could decipher what was going on.

Another riot had taken place...with the ABB as the cause again. This time, what was the reason? Lung's imprisonment was the obvious explanation. But why would the ABB waste their manpower on a pointless riot? Conclusion; this wasn't pointless. It was a distraction. Most likely, Lung would be free by tonight's end. He paused for a moment to ponder over how the ABB's forces could have swollen overnight. Coercion, most likely. Oni Lee seemed like the type to do such a thing.

He turned around, still deaf to the sounds below, and glanced at his ruined apartment, still resisting the urge to scowl at his predicament. His face was a blank mask as he surveyed the ruin. He had spent so much effort in keeping this place clean. Hours and hours of cleaning, maintenance and upkeep ruined by another riot by a gang of misguided weaklings following someone stronger.

Little more than two months back in Brockton Bay and he was witness to two riots in the same week. With the place ruined as it was, there would be rescue work...rebuilding...investigations. Investigations meant police.

A twenty-year old black male living in an upscale apartment with no discernible source of income. Police would certainly take any chance to search his place. He'd have to leave. Pity, he had actually liked this apartment. The owner had owed him a few favors and had offered him free lodging in a penthouse as payment. It still cost him utilities but it was one of the few places in this pathetic city he didn't despise.

Noting that the television was still functional, he reached for the remote, noting the twitch in his arm as he pressed the On button. He was being forced to break his routine again. TV was for Saturday and Sunday only. Too addictive to be allowed to seep into his normal weekday activities. He watched as the news anchor gave a report of explosions happening over town, of random Asians and other people of multiple races running into public places and exploding.

Footage was shown and he paused it, thankful he had that software installed. For ten careful minutes, he studied the footage. He watched it in slow motion, reversed it, frame-by-frame, frame-by-frame in reverse...all multiple times before he came to a conclusion.

All of that leading to this.

'315...316...317...318...319'

Today was a good day. Just as Monday had been. Unlike Monday, his routine was disturbed. Monday, he had been woken up by the noise but seeing that it didn't affect him, he went back to sleep. Today **was** a good day...until the ABB had interrupted his schedule.

'...320.'

He opened the door to the rooftop, taking in a deep breath of the dense smoke and smog that seemed all too common to Brockton Bay this past week. The air was hot and dry, not unexpected considering the fires raging ten stories below. It wasn't ideal for the task but he would manage.

He laid the bags gently on the rooftop and unzipped one, removing a large beach blanket. Laying it on the ground, he removed a few more items from it and began the careful work of assembling them together. A few minutes later, he was in position.

Laying vertical on the blanket he had laid out **(CLEAN)** , he looked through the scope and took a deep breath. Suppressor attached...tripod steadied...scope had been secured...everything was ready.

The ringing in his ears was as strong as ever but it was nothing to ignore it. The distracting sensations...pain, dizziness, nausea...they vanished in a sea of silence, allowing him to intensify his focus and put everything behind him.

'1...2...3...4...'

His body still ached but even that faded as he began to meditate, his eye on the running target and letting nothing but the data fill his thoughts.

'5...6...7...'

The news was informative...for once. The footage was all he needed. Implants in the head...bombs.

'8...9...10...11...12...'

Tinkertech? Without a doubt.

'14...15...'

Each running figure in red. Above the left ear...a small incision.

'16...17...'

He gripped the rifle tighter.

'18...19...'

The marks run, their mouths open. He hears nothing.

'20.'

He stops counting. Twenty marks are enough...for now.

* * *

 **Objective: Twenty targets.**

* * *

He marks the time.

Another breath...In...Out...In...Out...In...

He has no name. He has no family. He has no past. He has a purpose. He is a weapon...a tool.

A tool that wields itself.

...In...Out...In...Out...In...

He exhales as he pulls the trigger.

The first mark dies quickly, the implant too damaged to function.

Blood splatter and brain matter painted rioters behind her.

He watches as the girl falls to the ground and drops her flaming bottle, all the while as the now visible circuitry embedded in her head continued to spark. The glass shatters and the oil and burning rag fall on her chest, setting her alight. She twitches slightly as the flames spread but he knows she is too far gone to feel it.

He did not aim to kill.

'1...'

Without meaning to, he breaks focus, a small smile fighting it's way loose from his clenched lips. With the smile comes pain **(NO PAIN)** and he sinks into the void of silence once again, smile fading away and eyes becoming as dull as a corpse.

He fires again. An old woman with a cane. This time, he does not keep his eye on the terminated mark. '2...'

Again. Young man in a suit. RPG. '3...'

Again. Little girl in a uniform. Pipe. '4...'

Again. Balding man in an apron. Pistol. '5...'

'Reload.' He does, his practiced hands moving like a machine as they eject the empty cartridge from the rifle, bolt action, and replacing it in moments. His eyes never leave the scope.

He takes aim and shoots again. '6.'

Again. '7.'

Again. '8.'

Again. '9.'

Again. '10.'

Five shots until he needs to reload. 5 more marks terminated.

He aims without feeling.

He shoots without thinking.

Calculations and data fill his mind. Wind velocity, weather, temperature, distance, angle, elevation...these were his focus.

No thoughts of blood, of people, of family.

Marks. Targets. Objectives.

'19.'

His last shot. His last mark before he left the roof. He had everything he needed with him. All that was necessary. This would be his final task before parting.

He scanned the rampaging crowd for the mark he had identified previously. He listed the characteristics in his head as he searched. 'Bandana tied around arm. Black jeans ripped on one knee. White shirt covered in dirt.'

It took him approximately five seconds before he found the target. His finger curled around the trigger.

He hesitated...

Light brown skin. Sharp hazel eyes. Multiple braids pulled back into a ponytail. The girl...It could have been Her. He watched for a moment as the girl ran forward into the crowd, eyes lighting up as she struck an unsuspecting man in the kneecap with a machete. Despite the pain **(NO PAIN)** , he broke focus, smiling as he watched her bring the blade down on the man's bleeding body.

However...

The longer he watched, the more he lost interest.

The ferocity wasn't natural.

The girl was scared, her face showed it. Her untrained movements...ungraceful gait...shaky hands. The way she glanced around, mimicking what the other conscripts did, only confirmed it. She was similar...but she wasn't Her.

Her name broke through his focus and his smile vanished as the silent void engulfed him again.

He pulled the trigger.

The bullet whizzed past the girl, striking the husk of a car behind her and startling her. She jumped, mouth open in a silent shriek, and she turned, running away from the action like a frightened rabbit.

He let out a sigh. 'Weak.'

* * *

 **Objective: Twenty targets.** **FAILED**

* * *

Standing up, he disassembled his weapon, packing it up and placing it away in his duffel along with the blanket. He opened the second duffel and pulled out a small bottle of oxygenated bleach and several rags. Swinging both duffel bags over his shoulder, he makes his way down the stairs, dowsing the rags with the bleach and wiping down every inch of all 320 stairs. By the time he has finished, nearly forty-five minutes has gone past. He doesn't mind. Without a routine, schedule **(ORDER),** time is meaningless.

Exiting the building through the back, he sighed, eyes beginning to droop as he thought back to his final mark.

More accurately, who the mark had reminded him of. He smiled at the thought, staggering as another wave of nausea and pain **(NO PAIN)** rocked him again. He paid no attention to his minor stumble, continuing his walk through the back alley behind his former apartment.

Despite the ringing in his ears, he could still hear the screams of the rioting in the main street behind him. He doesn't need to hear, though.

He whipped around just in time to dodge the attack. As it was, he received a glancing cut to the side.

His head snapped up, catching sight of his attacker.

It was the girl. The girl he had purposely missed.

His left eye twitched. 'How...ironic.'

"...give...fucking..." She shouted at him but the ringing in his ears blanked out most of her words.

He tilted his head, giving the girl a once over. She was shaky and nervous, her unsteady hands gripping on to the machete like a long-sword. Her face was sweaty and covered in grime, while her clothes were much the same.

"I'm sorry?" His voice was smooth and pleasant, intent on calming the girl before she did something rash.

She waved the machete wildly. "Give me your fuckin' money!"

He could understand why she chose him as a target. He was not that intimidating of a man, standing at just under six feet with a wiry frame. His clothes consisted of a simple yellow sweater vest, a blue dress shirt, tie and khakis and a pair of glasses giving him a bookish appearance. Combined with the blood on his clothes and his limping movements, he didn't seem like much of a threat. His bulging duffel bags must have only sweetened the deal for her.

* * *

 **Objective: Persuade her to leave.**

* * *

"Money?" he began, slouching slightly to reduce the height difference between them. "I don't have any money that you could take from me."

Her face twisted into a grimace and she took a step forward, trying her best to look threatening. "Stop fucking lying!"

She looked pitiful, like a rat trying to scare a lion with it's teeth.

"I'm not lying." He wasn't. She could try to take it from him. She wouldn't succeed.

"Open it!"

He blinked at her, acting confused. "Open it?"

"The fucking bags! Open it!" Her voice was shrill, turning into more of a scream than anything else.

"Really?" He gave her another chance. 'Take the out, girl. Take the out.'

"I said, fucking OPEN IT!" The machete in her hand nearly swung at him as she screamed wildly.

"Fine." He slowly unzipped the duffel on his right and stuck his hand inside, turning it to face the girl. She leaned forward, obviously eager to receive what she had accosted him for. As his fingers found what he was looking for, he allowed himself a small smile. "You're such an idiot."

"What?"

His free hand swung, striking her across the face in a backhand.

Despite being limited by the duffel on his shoulder, the strike was powerful enough to force an audible ' _Crack'_ from her nose as bone and cartilage were broken, eliciting a gush of blood from her crushed nostrils. The girl screamed and stumbled back, her blade flailing as she screamed in pain.

He stepped forward quickly, moving underneath another wild swing. He grabbed her wrist, twisting the blade out of her grip and wrenching her arm out of the socket. He hears the machete clatter to the alley floor. He pays it no mind, other than noting its location.

She screamed again and went limp as he gripped her arm even tighter. She looked up at him and cried out eyes full of tears, "Please...stop. Terry...please stop, Terry."

He blinks in surprise, looking at her with wide eyes. "What?" He let go of her arm, taking a single step back. "What did you say?"

"Please...stop." The girl crumpled herself up against the wall, crying as her nose continues to bleed.

'She wouldn't cry. I taught her better than that.' His eyes deadened and he let out a sigh, all the while staring at her teary blood-covered face. " You're not her."

She stares at him in confusion.

"I only gave you a chance because you look a lot like her but you don't **act** anything like she does," he explained with a sigh, "You should have taken the out."

"Wha..."

The knife lashed out in a smooth movement, creating a second smile at the base of her neck as he carved through muscle, skin and veins. For a few seconds, blood gushed, squirting like a fountain before trickling away. 'Carotid; internal, external. Thyroid cartilage, airway, external jugular...severed. No blood on my clothing...acceptable.'

* * *

 **Objective: Persuade her to leave.** **FAILED**

* * *

He raised a hand to his face, lifting his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.  
Two objectives failed and a routine broken.

Today was not a good day.

Shaking his head, he stared at the girl laying on the floor, eyes glassy and face covered with blood and tears.

He continued to stare, a wave of nostalgia hitting him as his eyes remained locked onto her blood-covered face.

* * *

"Terry, please stop." The little girl trembled as she sat on the floor, tear-filled eyes threatening to overflow.

"We're not done." He stands over her, his voice cold. The single light-bulb illuminating him from behind only served to frighten the small child more.

'We have to finish...'

"Terry, please..." Her small pudgy hands were wrapped in bloodstained gauze and clasped over her nose, drops of blood leaking from beneath her fingers.

"Get up."

'You need to be strong...'

"I don't wanna, Terry. I'm tired..."

His fists clench as he stares down at her and his voice shifts into a growl.  
"Get up."

'I'm trying to help you...'

"I'm rea-AAAHH!"

She screams as his hand strikes her across the face. It doesn't take long before her screams turn into small sobs.

"What's all this fuckin' noise?" Both the girl and the older boy's heads snap to the side as the door opened and a woman walked down the basement stairs. Her skin was the same shade as the little girl's, while her brown hair was wild and curled into thin ringlets. She wore nothing but a pair of bra and panties, causing the boy to curl his lip in disgust at the sight of her.

The woman's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy as she scanned the almost offensively clean basement, and they narrowed to near slits as she noticed the bleeding little girl on the floor. "Terrence, the fuckin' hell are you up to again? What did I tell you about this crazy killer shit? You better hope that...that...that...um...Terry?"

The boy had slowly turned his head to face the woman, pinning her with a dead stare. "Go upstairs, Marge." The little girl froze at the boy's icy voice and slinked off into the corner.

"Terry...Terry...Terrence Isaiah-"

"I said, upstairs." He interrupts her, his voice low and calm.

The woman flinches, stumbling a little on the stairs at the vehemence in the boy's voice. "I am...I am your momma..."

"Marge, go upstairs," he began, "You have never been my mother. At best, you are a customer. You have no money and Gram's dead so you can't exactly steal from her anymore. We both know you're only down here because you want drugs. If you ever want to smoke again, you will stay out of my business."

Marge huffed and opened her mouth to say something only to have her son cut her off yet again. "And don't start with that my house, my rules nonsense. Gram left me the house. I'm the one with rules. Go upstairs."

"I..."

"Go to your room, Marge." The boy huffed, a low breath of air rushing from his mouth. "Open your bottom drawer. There is some crack and a new pipe. Now leave."

The woman frowned but did begin to walk upstairs.

"Oh, and Marge?"

She stopped, turning around as the boy called her name. "Huh?"

The corner of his mouth slid up into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Put some clothes on and stop walking around like you own the place. It's disgusting."

Marge glared at the boy and he met her stare with his own. After one long moment, she shivered and turned around, running up the stairs. "Fuckin' Wolf." His smile vanished as he heard her parting words, being replaced by a blank mask of apathy.

As Marge slammed the basement door behind her, the boy turned back to the little girl in the corner and walked over to her, almost looming over the seven year old. He raised a bloodstained gauze-wrapped hand high, as if to strike her again. "Now, what did I say about crying?"

'You can't afford to be weak...'

She looks up again with her teary, blood-stained face and tries her best to look determined. Her pudgy face and and swollen cheek, however, detract from the effect. "The strong don't cry. Crying's for weak people. Crying's for when you have no reason to live. You only have no reason to live for when...when...when...uh..." She stares up at him with fear in her eyes as she continues to stumble.

His scowl deepens and she flinches as if expecting another hit.

Instead of striking her, he lowered his hand and crosses his arms across his prepubescent chest.

"You only have nothing left to live for when you are about to die. If you're about to die, and all you can do is cry then you're weak. If you're _weak_ ," he almost spat the word, "then you don't deserve to live. If you're hurt, you can scream. The strong **never** cry. Do you understand?"

The little girl jumped up and nodded quickly, her braided pigtails bouncing along. "I get it, but..."

"But what?"

"Can I have a break, please?" She stared up at him, pleading with her big hazel eyes. "I'll be right back. I just want some juice. Please, Terry."

He sighed, meeting at her warm, pleading puppy dog eyes with his own cold, dead stare.

He continued to stare, his lengthened glare causing the child to shrink in on herself.

She stared at her feet, kicking the wood floor as the silence kept dragging on. "I'm sorry. I get i-" "Wait..."

She quickly glanced up at him as he interrupted her.

"If you want juice, you have to last fifteen more minutes."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up.

"I'll do you one better. If you last thirty minutes, I'll take you to Icy Rock and get you a double scoop sugar cone."

Her face looks like she might explode from excitement with how wide she is smiling. "Can I get a triple scoop mega sugar cone?! Pleeaaasseeee, Terry."

His eyes narrow. "Can you last two hours?"

"No..." She pouted slightly.

"Well, there's your answer. Now, let's get to practice."

Forty-five minutes later, a pig-tailed seven year old was at the Brockton Bay Mall enjoying a double scoop cone as her brother looked on simply drinking a bottle of water.

He could hear the whispers around them.

'Look at all her bandages.'

'What happened? Why is she bleeding?'

'Is that a cut by her eye? What could possibly...'

'You think she's being...'

'Who would do such a...'

He turned to stare at those few who kept speaking, silencing them rather quickly. They no longer whispered about the hurt little girl. Now, they talked about the creepy little boy.

He didn't care one bit. He knew he was not very childlike but he didn't mind. It wasn't about him. This was all for her. She didn't mind her injuries. He had taught her how to ignore the pain and focus on other things, after all.

She looked up, pausing from her bubblegum and cotton candy double-scoop to look at her brother. "Hey, Terry. Am I getting strong now?"

He looked at her and gave her a small smile, a real one that actually reached his eyes. "Almost. You're not there just yet, though."

She went back to her ice cream, licking dutifully.

He took another gulp of water.

"Terry. Hey, Terry."

"Yes?"

"Why did Momma call you Wolf? I thought your middle name was Isaiah."

The boy was silent for a moment.

"Terry...Terry...Terry?"

"That's...a long story."

She took another lick. "Okay...use small words, then."

He sighed and laid his palms flat on the table. "Wolf is a name...some people gave me...because of me and my...friends. Also, because I'm...strong, tough...and...I can be...harsh...like a wolf. Understand?"

"Yeah? I think so."

She went back to her ice cream for a little bit until "Terry?"

"Yes?"

"If you're a wolf, does that mean I'm a puppy wolf? Arf! Arf! Aroooo! Oh, no!"

He blinked in surprise as his little sister's ice cream cone slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground.

However, as he watched his cute little sister pout, puffing up her cheeks and doing her best not to cry, he couldn't help but break out into another smile, a wider one this time. "Are you sad over your ice cream? I thought you were a wolf?"

Her pout somehow increased. "I'm not crying! And I said I was a puppy wolf. I'm not a big wolf yet. You're the big wolf!"

He forced himself to suppress a wince as she used his street name once again. "You're right. Remind me one more time, what sound does a puppy wolf make?"

She bounced in her seat, fallen ice cream forgotten. "Arf Arf Aroooooo!"

Patting her head, he stood up and held a hand out for her to take. "That's right. Now let's get you more ice cream."

She took his hand and hopped out of her seat, smiling in that infectious way children often did. "Triple Scoop Mega Sugar Cone?"

He looked at her again and she gave him the eyes. Hazel speckled with flecks of green. He sighed. "Fine...Triple Scoop Mega Sugar Cone."

"Yay!" She gave a little jump and clicked her heels. "Arf Arf Arooo! Puppy wolf! Triple scoop! Puppy wolf! Triple scoop! Arf Arf Aroo!"

He looked down at her again, smiling at her skipping and singing along with her. "Puppy wolf! Triple scoop! Puppy wolf! Triple scoop! Arf Arf Aroo!"

'Don't you worry. You'll be a big wolf one day. That's a promise. I'm gonna make you a predator if it's the last thing I do.'

* * *

He blinked as he looked at the dead body of the not-Her. Her dull, unseeing eyes stared back at him and his lip quirked for a moment.

Turning around, he continued his limping walk. 'Don't worry, little sister. I'll be back to see my little wolf soon.'

Glancing at his bleeding leg, he shook his head.

'Just not today.'


	42. Interlude 2i: Colin Wallis

Interlude 2i: Armsmaster/Colin Wallis

* * *

Colin Wallis was rarely rendered speechless.

He was an intelligent man. If he was not speaking, he most likely did not like or possess enough information about the topic of conversation to contribute to the established pattern of discussion. Not that he would want to engage in a discussion over whatever vapid and banal tripe that the common person found interesting. It wasn't even that he disliked talking or that he disliked people in general. He enjoyed intelligent conversation but he simply lacked common interests with 99% of the people he came into contact with. The reason being, those same people lacked the brain-cells to maintain a conversation with someone like himself or Dragon. He also lacked the patience to respond to the inanities that constantly spewed from their mouths like diarrhea. Dealing with Assault or even Clockblocker was a vacation compared to that. By the time they started asking questions about his "cool spear", he resorted to glaring at them silently. That usually worked wonders on even the most eager of the mouth-breathers.

It wasn't that he lacked the words, either. Through sheer determination, he had achieved fluency in Spanish, French, Japanese, Mandarin and Korean. While his speech was often stilted and clipped, that was more due to his tendency to over-think every word before it passed his lips.

Now, though, he was completely and utterly without words as he stared at what he had toiled over for the past four days. Brushing his overgrown hair out of his eyes, he looked up at the circular case jutting out from the wall, the same one he normally used to display the most advanced version of his armor. He simply stared, marveling at the sight of the silver metal and dark gray trim.

Despite the short time frame, despite his lack of experience with the material, despite his complete embarrassment at the hand of Piggot, he had completed it. Transformed a shoddy, rushed mess into a work of art worthy of the materials used to make it. It had cost him parts from his old suit as well and at first, he had regretted cannibalizing his former armor. He had even taken the time to upgrade his halberd and spear as well. But it had been worth it, worth it to create something like this.

The suit had been completed as quickly as he could and diagnostics had been run. He had even prepared to finally fall asleep when he had the insane idea of taking it for a test run. Despite the fact that he hadn't slept in days and was under the influence of several amphetamines, he had gone through with his idea, taking the suit into his private testing area.

Thankfully, he was still alive. With the benefit of hindsight and proper sleep, Armsmaster could see the inherent foolishness in his decision but that was the past. Still, he had been eager to test out the suit. It had worked perfectly upon completion with all the functions working as he had programmed and designed. He had finally let himself sleep after he finished, showering and changing his clothes for the first time in days as soon as he woke up this morning.

That wasn't to say that he was satisfied with his work. No, there was always room for improvement but he felt that it would be hard to top what he had done. Still, while he had no problems with the function of the suit itself, he still had some issues. The material of the suit still somewhat eluded him. No matter what he tried, no matter what test he ran or equipment he used, he was unable to understand exactly how it was made. After hours of investigation, the most information he had received from it was when he used a scanning microscope on one of the strands at 100X magnification.

* * *

Designed by E.D.G. Technology

A Subsidiary of Grey Enterprises.

From the parent company Grey Co.

* * *

That had been rather surreal. Even if branding Tinkertech was necessary, why embed the branding so deeply into the material that it would be nearly impossible to find? Why brand in the first place? This was obviously Tinkertech. It couldn't even be mass produced.

Confused as to why the markings even existed, he had performed a search for the company names only to find nothing substantial for any of them. The only lead that had turned up was for a Grey Enterprises and that had produced nothing. Grey Enterprises had apparently been a business venture that had gone belly-up over seven years ago when the CEO, a young Harvard dropout, was convicted on sexual assault charges.

What had stumped him even more than the microscopic logo was the power source for the suit. As he disassembled the former mess the suit had been, he had discovered several finger-sized blue crystals that seemed to glow under their own power. Nothing he tested them with could determine their function or why they seemed to glow so he set them aside. Upon running diagnostics for the suit, he noticed a problem. The suit's operation was sluggish, response time was slow and the level of physical augmentation was not what he had been hoping for. From the miniature photo-voltaic systems embedded in the strands, he knew that the suit could run on solar power. So what was the problem?

Further testing revealed that while the suit could run on solar power, it was not optimized to do so. After much thought and weighing of the options, Armsmaster decided on using the crystals, deciding to deal with the matter latter.

The branding was most likely nothing more than a young Tinker's pipe dream of creating a business with his creations. Armsmaster had ignored the branding after that, putting thoughts about the logo to the back of his mind. The crystals, though, required more study.

Those issues were almost forgotten the second the nanomaterial molded itself to his muscles. Putting on the suit...wearing his masterpiece...It had been amazing. Simply designing, modifying and programming the thing had been a heady enough feeling. Working with material almost guaranteed to deliver impressive results, a programming system that almost seemed to write itself, and self-repair functions that was very forgiving towards mistakes...it had all paled compared to the feeling of being inside the suit. The sense of power was...was...well, it was hard to describe. It had brought emotions to the forefront of his mind...emotions that he didn't even think he had. His mind had always been superhuman but in that suit, the rest of him was as well.

Just thinking about wearing the suit the night before made him excited. In fact...

Colin stepped closer to the display case. "Access Code: Armarium." With a soft beep to mark the recognition of his voice, the glass slid open and stairs jutted out from the base of the stand, allowing Armsmaster to step inside of the case. Turning around in the cramped space, he closed his eyes and positioned his back on the metal stand which the suit rested.

He leaned back further, his back touching the cool cloth-like material of his suit, and spoke."Access Code: Vestibus."

After a short moment, there was another soft beep.

Colin heard it as much as he felt it, the movement of the suit behind him as it responded to both his body heat and his voice activation. He resisted the urge to move as the cold metal attached itself to the small of his back and spread out from there. He didn't tense his muscles, simply relaxing as the nano-material split into tendrils and slithered up and down his muscles, plastering itself tightly on his skin. As he waited for his new suit to finish molding itself to him, his mind began to wonder about the material's origin and doubts began to crawl through his mind, a slight tinge of fear breaking through his excitement at finally breaking past his limits.

Was making a suit made out of material he couldn't replicate or fully understand the best idea? How was the suit even really powered? Solar power made no sense and those crystals didn't seem to do anything at all. Was it smart to take the material from a cape that powerful, with serious anger issues to boot? How long before the boy realized that Armsmaster was in possession of his suit? How could he defend his position if the boy came to collect? He'd be humiliated. How could he defend his life if the boy came here angry? 'No...'

'No...' Those stresses flitted through his mind, worrying him as thoughts of the boy, Superior, and his glowing red eyes chasing him down and goring his eyes out. Images of Lung flashed through his mind and his heart rate began to spike and his muscles tensed until he felt it. The material molded itself to his face and he felt the rush of energy and heard a slight hum as the suit finally began it's activation. '45.6 seconds to suit up. Nearly a full minute. Urgent improvements needed.' He forced himself to focus on one of the suit's shortcomings instead, unwilling to let that boy influence his thoughts again. He raised an arm, noting how thick and metallic the suit felt and looked, despite its cloth-like appearance on the stand. 'Regardless,' thought Armsmaster, 'still much more durable than my armor.'

He stepped out of the case, crouching his legs slightly as he jumped off the stand and he leapt back up. He took in the feel of the metal tightly gripping his muscles, flexing as he did, moving with him, and the cold feel of metal on his skin.

Colin heard the slight humming of the suit's systems increase slightly and a readout of the suit's system appeared on the H.U.D. designed into the suit's lenses. If he had been someone who was interested in such things, he might have realized that he programmed it to look similar to a video game. As it was, he didn't know and even if he did, he wouldn't care. As the display moved through his field of vision, the face of a young short-haired woman appeared on the display and a synthesized female voice spoke directly into his ears.

* * *

 _"All programmed functions online._  
 _Electrolocation Function online._  
 _Infrared Online._  
 _Night Vision online._  
 _Teleportation Signal (Halberd) Online._  
 _EMP Projector (Halberd) Online._  
 _Electric Field (Halberd) Online._  
 _Grappling Hook (Halberd) Online._  
 _Dart Launcher (Halberd) Online._  
 _Plasma Blade (Halberd) Online._  
 _Teleportation Signal (ArmSpear) Online._  
 _EMP Projector (ArmSpear) Online._  
 _Electric Field (ArmSpear) Online._  
 _Extension Function (ArmSpear) Online._  
 _Plasma Blaster (ArmSpear) Online._  
 _Lie Detector Module Online._  
 _Self-Repair Function Online._  
 _Cloaking Function Online._  
 _Combat Analyzer Module Online._  
 _Combat Predictor Module Online._  
 _Electric Stun Function Online._  
 _Visual Scanner Module Online._  
 _Spike Function Online._  
 _Hard-Light ArmShield Funcction Online._  
 _Inertial Dampening Online._  
 _Enhanced Musculature Fully Functional._  
 _Enhanced Reflexes Fully Functional._  
 _Power levels at 100% percent capacity and steady._  
 _Projected length of time till shutdown: 2,436 hours at current levels of usage."_

* * *

Colin glanced out the readout of the suit's specifications on his HUD. Internal temp, external temp, power usage, ventilation. He listened to the suit's English accent speak in detail and nodded. As the voice finished speaking, he questioned whether to respond to the voice as he did the night before. Sleep deprived and driven by impulse, he had spoken with the suit for hours before he finally fell asleep. A week in silence had left him more hungry for any sort of contact than he would have expected and S.I.A. had been a surprisingly good conversationalist. Frankly, she seemed responsive enough to pass the Turing, although that may simply have just been the sleep deprivation talking.

After a moment's thought, he replied with a calm, "Thank you, S.I.A."

 _"You are very welcome, sir."_

Another issue to deal with regarding the suit was it's worrying amount of extra features, features that were somehow programmed into the threads of the nano-material itself. Apparently, the suit had come programmed with a Virtual Assistant. Her name was S.I.A or as she described herself the night before, 'I am a natural language user interface designed in order to create a more 'user-friendly' environment for the wearer of this suit. I am known as S.I.A., your Synthetic Intelligent Assistant. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.'

The shock of the suit actually talking to him had at first nearly sent Armsmaster crashing into the ceiling. At the time, he was preparing to test the suit's jumping ability and a voice emanating from nowhere had been quite a surprise. After the initial shock of S.I.A. coming online and his fears of a possible A.I., he had gotten used to S.I.A., at least after he had extensively questioned her. According to S.I.A., she was little more than a highly advanced digital assistant program designed to work with the suit and could not act outside her programming. That had done wonders to assuage Colin's worries of harboring an A.I. and he had been eager to continue questioning her, hoping to find a lead as to who created the suit. However, that proved fruitless. According to the digital assistant, the suit had undergone severe damage and the entirety of her non-essential data had been lost or corrupted and recovery would take an excessive amount of time to deliver any useful results.

That had left Colin somewhat disappointed, although he still deactivated the suit and verified her claims. Exhausted and rash he may have been, but he was still Armsmaster. While extra investigation had calmed his worries over the A.I. situation, he still was shocked over how much he didn't understand about the material with which he had worked with for the better part of a week. While construction itself had been rather simple, the programming language had been advanced, so advanced that he didn't do much more than make a few edits out of fear of crashing the entire thing. It simply added another worry to his already large backlog.

Colin grit his teeth and pushed his rising worry and stress to the back of his mind, already feeling his heart rate increase. Thoughts of the boy always came back when he got stressed. "S.I.A." he began, "Give me a readout of my physical status and of the suit's current augmentation levels." After a moment of afterthought, he added, "Metric system unless stated otherwise."

* * *

 _"Understood, sir. Height 193 cm,_  
 _Weight 117.89 kg._  
 _Temperature 37.1 Celsius._  
 _Blood Pressure 124/80._  
 _A.R.M Suit Augmentation Levels; All functions operating at 200%._  
 _A.R.M. Suit operating at 20% capacity._  
 _You are in excellent physical health and your improvements toward the system of this suit have increased generator efficiency 16% percent and power usage efficiency 12%._  
 _An incredible advancement on your part, sir."_

* * *

Armsmaster's lip gave an unconscious upwards twitch at the praise from the digital assistant. "Thank you, S.I.A."

 _"You are very welcome, sir."_

Armsmaster nodded and began to walk around his lab in an attempt to get used to idle movement in the A.R.M. Suit. He idly noted the whirring sound his suit produced with every step he took. "A bit loud. Could be distracting. Should take steps to mitigate that," he muttered out loud.

 _"Should I make a note of that?"_

Armsmaster paused his walk and blinked behind his mask, a thought coming to mind. 'Offloading my notes and idle thoughts toward improvement into the suit itself. Saves time.' "Yes, S.I.A., do make a note of that."

 _"Understood. I shall remind you in twenty-four hours. And might I add, a rather astute observation on the suit's noise, sir."_

Armsmaster's lip twitched upwards again. "Thank you, S.I.A."

It was rather nice to have a constant partner, someone that understood him and his efforts. S.I.A. couldn't compete with Dragon when it came to that, though. The natural intelligence and warmth that the reclusive Tinker had were palpable qualities that made her a delight to be around. Despite what he would like, she couldn't talk with him all day. She had her own life and he could respect that. It'd be ridiculous to expect her to be around all the time whenever he felt like intelligent conversation. The woman wasn't a machine, after all. However, companionship from a machine didn't seem to be that bad. At least she appreciated him.

'Suit's idle movement is adequate. Responsive to my movements. Speed and strength evaluated the night before. Let's evaluate...scanning functions.' Colin walked over to a bare wall. "Access Code: Speculo."

A soft beep and a portion of the wall slid open, exposing a wall-to ceiling mirror. Armsmaster's eyes widened in surprise and he let out a short gasp as he took in his suited appearance for the first time.

Armsmaster's suit was an armored silver with raised portions of dark gray paneling around the chest and the undersides of his arms and legs. A triangle, the only visible part of the generator that powered the suit, glowed a bright blue on the center of his chest creating what looked like an emblem in the shape of a letter A. From that triangle, thick glowing lines spread out across the entire suit, curving across his shoulders and waist and stopping at his wrists and ankles. His signature helmet was absent, replaced by a mask that curved across his face with two angular lenses covering his eyes. His new design left his head free, allowing his newly lengthened hair to fall to his chin, while his bushier beard was left unrestricted as ever with his jaw left free.

His mouth stayed open as he continued to stare, one simple word flitting through his thoughts. 'Hero...'

Colin tilted his head and stared at himself, almost trying to convince himself he was imagining it. Yet, the longer he looked in the mirror, the less he could deny the fact that he bore a striking resemblance to his mentor. The design, the paneling, the lenses covering his eyes...they were nearly identical to one of Hero's later suits. It was strange. He had always wanted to create something similar but he had never...found...

Armsmaster raised his arm and flexed the glove, watching as the mechanical arm mimicked the tensing of muscle. "...the right material." He spoke in a whisper, still somewhat unbelieving.

'Unbelievable.' Could he have possibly done this all while deprived of sleep? Created the perfect homage to the man who had taught him everything he knew while running on no sleep and an unhealthy dosage of stimulants and nootropics? Colin turned back in the mirror and took another look, noting even more similarities. His hair follicles, unnaturally active thanks to a shampoo formula that he had tried to improve upon in his youth, had been hard at work this past week, his beard and hair taking every effort to grow now that he was no longer trimming it down every day. Still, the bushy, untrimmed beard, the long hair...All traits of his teacher. His hair wasn't blonde and the suit wasn't gold but the resemblance was undeniable. It was enough to make him stop and think about the late Tinker and the lesson that the man taught him to live his life by.

* * *

' _Cole, listen close. I'm gonna tell you a secret. Being a real hero ain't about saving lives or stopping criminals. Forget about all that. People die and crime's never gonna go away. That's just how it is. Being a hero's all about making the people feel like that's not true. People wanna look up to something 'cause a lotta people know that the world is scary and unfair and that deep down they're not worth much. They could die tomorrow and nobody'd really care. You gotta be what they look up to, make 'em feel like they have one less reason to be scared._

 _You don't stop bad guys 'cause it's right. Nah, kid, you do it 'cause it makes people feel like the world is fair, like justice is real and that good will always win. You gotta make 'em feel better, make 'em love you, make 'em feel like you're bigger and better than them. People want a hero that makes the world feel like it's worth living in. What you do matters but nowhere near as much as how you do it. Show off with your actions, Collie. Kick ass with style. I've seen your flips and your karate. Do more of that and they'll be eatin' out of your hand. If you're the hero who stops to talk and brag, they'll love ya at first but then they'll start resentin' ya. You gotta just do your thing. Save people, stop the baddies, build better stuff, rinse and repeat. A Tinker like you, we got a lot in common. Everybody else, they stay the same. We keep getting better every day. Don't you worry, kid. Right now, you're like Hercules saving the people, doing his trials, workin' your ass off to get respect but you'll be up with on Mount Olympus soon enough, kicking butt in the big leagues with me, the chick, the fairy, and the grump. Hell, you and the grump'll prob'ly get along real well. Hehehe, I can see the two of you just having a staring contest, see who blinks or talks first. Although, he'll probably wish up a power to make you blink or something. Trump 12, my ass._

 _Where was I? People? 'Kay, then._

 _Remember, the people don't matter. The baddies don't matter. Just do ya job. You'll be part of your own Triumvirate and I 'll get to say 'I taught him when he was a brat still smacking himself in the balls tryin' to spin his halberd.' Remember, Armsmaster is gonna be a big name in a lil' bit. Just do ya thing and don't let nobody hold ya back.'_

* * *

Colin couldn't help himself from beaming at the thought of his boisterous loudmouth of a mentor. Always had an opinion and a long speech to go along with it. He may have been a loudmouth and a joker but he was as smart as you would expect the world's best Tinker to be. Colin hadn't appreciated the man enough back then. Oh, he definitely enjoyed the privilege and attention that came with being mentored by one of the three strongest capes on the planet but before Colin lost the majority of his respect; before Lung, before Dauntless, before...before the Siberian, the taciturn teen Colin had been at sixteen years old couldn't see past the smiling, blonde face to appreciate the wisdom the man had given him.

The grim and reticent man that he was now appreciated it more than ever. Those long, rambling words...he lived by them now. He did his job, he saved people, he fought criminals, he showed the world that he never stopped getting better, never stopped improving. What did that sacrificing everything get him? What did constantly improving and pushing his limits get him? Forgoing family, friends, a wife, kids, all of that...what did it get him? Money. A mountain of money that he had no time or inclination to spend. What was money with no respect? No appreciation for his hard work and years of toil and self-improvement? And yet, without him, Brockton would be a smoldering heap of rubble with Lung dancing on the ashes. But no...According to everyone's opinion, Armsmaster doesn't need any of that. Armsmaster didn't care.

He heard the jokes behind his back. His teammates, the people on the street, the worthless PRT squads, they never knew he could hear them.

* * *

 _'Armsmaster's like at least half-robot, right?'_

 _'More like full.'_

 _'Does he even have a penis?'_

 _'He probably cut it off so he'd have more space for more weapons in his suit.'_

 _'Hell, does he even like women?"_

 _'Hell, does he like anything other than his Tinkering?'_

 _Listen guys, you're just being mean for no reason. The man's obviously a robosexual. He's probably got tons of different sexbots to fuck in his lab. That's why he never leaves the place.'_

 _'This guy's right. No wonder he got it soundproofed.'_

 _'Don't forget locked from the inside!'  
_

* * *

The jokes, the jokes, always mocking him. Mocking his efforts, mocking his skills. It was just a few years ago that the name Armsmaster was synonymous with greatness, with fame. He was expected to replace the gap Hero left when Siberian took him from the world. He would have made the Triumvirate a Quadrumvirate once again. However, he couldn't. His improvements slowed down, he began struggling to keep up, began to really understand what the term "diminishing returns" really meant. He was once considered the fourth most influential cape in the Protectorate, then he was moved down to fifth, then sixth. According to public opinion, he was now seventh. With Dauntless constantly increasing in power, he'd be lucky if he was only in eight place in the next couple of months. Now that Assault was managing to garner support in the hero community despite his criminal past, Colin knew that he'd be lucky to stay in the top ten by the end of the year.

This suit was his way out of a sinking ship, his way out from Piggot.

Piggot was determined to make him heel, determined to force him to bend to her will. Stripping him of his hard-earned position for making a tough call, that wasn't leadership! No, the woman was being petty. She'd been like this for years, sitting behind her desk, getting fatter every day while he worked his ass off for years keeping the city from being overrun. What did she think the PRT was useful for? Men and women with guns against a man who turned into a monster from legends? Worthless. Armored trucks against a man who could kill everyone inside with a touch or send the truck itself hurtling over the skyline? Meaningless. Bulletproof vests against a heartless ninja who was known for his suicide bombing tactics and his endless use of clones and teleporting? Pitiful. It actually brought to mind a point that Shadow Stalker had brought out, when she was speaking to Vista about the PRT, little less than a few weeks into her probation when she thought no one else was around to hear.

* * *

 _'I don't get why the PRT's so goddamn important. It's just a bunch of guys in SWAT gear with foam launchers and guns. PRT can't do shit in a cape fight. They're fuckin' clean-up. Foam the guys down after we're done kicking ass, that's all they fuckin' do. The cops could do that shit. Fuck, the cops_ _ **should**_ _be doing that shit. The fuck, though? The PRT, a bunch of fuckin' desk jockeys gets to boss the mothafuckin' Alexandria around. Shit, if I was Alexandria, I'd shove my size 9 combat boot up Becky Costa-fuckin'-Brown's panty-suit wearing asshole till she gave me the fuckin' top job. A bunch of regulars bossing capes around? Fuck that, capes handle cape shit. You can't deal with fuckin' laser beams flying at you then don't tell me what the fuck to do unless you wanna handle it yourself. Capes handle cape- OH Fuck, Armsmaster. I mean...sir...fuck me...Shit, that came out wrong...I meant...oh, fuck a duck.'  
_

* * *

Both Vista and Shadow Stalker had expected Shadow Stalker to be punished. Shadow Stalker certainly didn't expect him to simply say "Language. However, I do understand your grievance," before continuing on his way. Shadow Stalker had been almost a pleasure to work with since that encounter, at least for him. She seemed to have taken a shine to him though, for the life of him, he couldn't imagine why. To be honest, he rather liked Shadow Stalker the most out of all the Wards. She was strong willed, eager to fight crime and determined to improve her impressive albeit somewhat sloppy fighting skills. Despite her massive anger problem, she was a heroic gem in contrast to his apprentice, Kid Win, who seemed more energetic and at home on the Arcadia Debate Team when compared to his passive, ineffectual behavior in the Wards.

In fact, Colin had been so impressed by the Hess girl's spirit and drive, he had actually pressured the girl's social worker to go easy on her so as not to hinder her motivation to become a hero. He had even offered the woman a generous amount of money, promising to 'make it worth her while.' The woman's eyes had roamed over his suit for a moment before she quickly hid her face in her hands. He took that to mean that she was obviously in need of money and embarrassed that someone noticed. Frankly, she made it rather hard not to notice, what with her bad hairdo, rumpled pantsuit and thick, old-fashioned glasses. She didn't possess the money to take care of her appearance. To ease her tensions, Colin had given her a smile, albeit forced, and patted her hand reassuringly. The reddening of her cheeks implied embarrassment again but she quickly nodded. Once he actually handed her the money, her face seemed to imply disappointment and shock and she seemed to sputter a bit, reddening even further. He wasn't sure what he had done wrong. Maybe he had given too much money or too little...he wasn't really sure of the going rate for bribery.

Still, for a foul-mouthed little ball of rage, Shadow Stalker had made a rather good observation. Why did heroes; people able to bend and outright break the laws of physics, nature and biology to their will, have to listen to normal people who didn't understand their lives? Shadow Stalker was right. The PRT was, for the most part, a clean-up crew with jobs that could be handled by a SWAT team or regular squad of cops. Why did the Triumvirate have to follow the orders of the PRT's armchair generals? The answer was simple. Fear. Regular people feared what capes would do without the government and PRT controlling them. Just like Piggot.

He saw her, constantly glaring at them with her beady little eyes. She didn't think he noticed but of course he did. He was Armsmaster. He could clearly see the hate in someone's eyes and Piggot's were full of it. It didn't matter who...Velocity, Miss Militia, Vista, Gallant...himself. She hated them. All capes, including Panacea. He remembered the day the girl had offered to heal her. How could he forget the way the beast of a woman had recoiled when Panacea held up her hand? The hate in her eyes was almost palpable when she looked back at the girl but again, nobody noticed. 'That's just Piggot being Piggot', they said. 'She's an independent woman. A real battle-axe,' they said.

They were idiots! Complete fools and utterly bereft of the slightest inkling of common sense, if that's all they thought it was! He had asked around, hoping to find that the others weren't as dense as he feared. He was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that most of them hadn't notice a thing after all these years. Was it up to him to notice everything? How any of them ever survived a single fight without even an ounce of observational skills between them was beyond him.

He knew for a fact that Gallant noticed Piggot's true feelings. How wouldn't he, with his power-set? However, the sympathetic prat tried to beg off from describing what he felt from the woman, likening her hate to resentment of those with good health and a strong hate for villains due to Nilbog. Dauntless, Triumph, Velocity and Battery didn't notice a thing. Miss Militia, nationalistic as ever, went on to liken Piggot's attitude to that of a drill sergeant in the army dealing with recruits. It was only the respect that Armsmaster had for his second-in-command that kept him listening as she continued to wax poetic about the rigor, honor and duty that the Army upheld, and that Piggot as a former PRT field agent embodied that. Miss Militia could get caught up sometimes. A good woman but patriotic to a fault. To...a...fault.

Assault and Clockblocker were the only others who noticed it, most likely due to them being on the receiving end of her ire most of the time. They didn't really care at all of what damage the woman could do their careers, Assault going so far as to say 'Eh, she's morbidly obese, has liver failure, ulcers and hypertension. If you're really worried, the Pig'll drop dead in her office any day now.'

That had actually elicited a small smile from Armsmaster and he was glad that his beard was there to hide it. It wouldn't do for Assault to think that they were anything other than coworkers. Still, Armsmaster would not mourn the day the woman finally gave up on her pathetic existence. He wouldn't celebrate of course, simply because of the act not being socially acceptable, not because of any hidden feelings of respect. The woman was as bitter, spiteful and petty as a person could be and the city would be better place for it.

Colin frowned and continued to stare into the mirror, idly noting the portions that was most reminiscent of Hero's own suit. 'What did he name it again? The Paragon. Yes, the Paragon.'

He knew that he would have to submit his A.R.M Suit to the Safety Testing Department for approval, complete with the specs, but he couldn't do that. If they found out that not only was he not fully knowledgeable of the suit's material origin but that he had created it in a few nights while under the influence of drugs and sleep exhaustion as well as the fact that he had ripped the material from the burnt body of a nearly dead cape, they would order it immediately destroyed or returned.

Piggot would take pleasure in doing it and then most likely demote him again for giving her more paperwork. Maybe she would make him a Ward. Armsmaster grimaced at the thought. He wouldn't put it past her to spin it to the press as Armsmaster developing a closer rapport with the future Protectorate of Brockton Bay. The PRT would know and so would the Wards and the Protectorate, and from there the entire Internet would be aware. He would be made a laughingstock, never to be taken seriously again.

Be made a laughingstock? Hah! He was already a joke in the eyes of the world. He'd been online for years, entering his name into various search engines and combing through the results. For very child he'd motivated, every mugging he stopped, every criminal he arrested, for every single positive point he found about himself online, there were an average of twenty-five negative posts to drown them. A video of him stumbling and falling...'Regent'...A picture of him face-down on the ground...'Newter's spit'...A short GIF of him digging himself out of a pile of Mush's garbage with the caption 'Trashmaster's Secret Origin Story.' Armsmaster snarled as he remembered the insults again, an uncharacteristically expressive show of anger compared to his silent, dour glares. This was all Piggot's fault!

For years and years, she had been slowly marginalizing him and keeping him out of the public eye, limiting his interviews, appearances and events while every other member of the Protectorate, Dauntless especially, received more and more exposure to the public. 'It's just a matter of increased exposure, Colin. It's important that the people really know all the Protectorate, not just you.' His merchandising had dropped. Toys, clothes, shoes, bags...none of it was selling like it used to. And the less they sold, the less they stocked. The less they stocked, the less they sold and so on and so forth. It was a vicious cycle that was slowly turning him into a nobody outside of Brockton.

Dauntless, however...

The rising star was still rising, doing nothing but smiling and laughing to earn it. His combat skills were pathetic, his movement without enhancements were slow and worthless and what did the Golden Boy do to fix this? Nothing. Just sitting down and relaxing, letting his power do the work and rarely even patrolling. Because Piggot didn't want their star getting hurt, of course. She didn't care about the city. She didn't care that she would have long been fired if not for his hard work. It wasn't the rest of the Protectorate she wanted to expose, she just wanted to limit him, to prevent him from succeeding. She knew how pathetic and insignificant she was. No PRT Head, especially not one with one foot already in the grave, was worth losing a cape on his level. They both knew that was true and she felt weak. So she struck back in anyway she could.

Simply imagining her fat smug face made his fists clench. He wished she would hurry up and die so someone less petty and unpleasant would take the position. For Armsmaster, that day could not come soon enough. Every day she sat in that seat overlooking the city he protected, he felt a rising urge to gore her through the chest with his halberd and fling her bleeding carcass into the bay using his grappling hook until it attracted every shark in the vicinity and watch them tear apart her-

 _"Caution: Intense spike in blood pressure. Blood pressure 194/90. Administering A.R.M. Suit calmative. You might feel a slight prick, sir."_

'What?' Colin did feel a slight pinch as the suit pierced a vein on his right arm and he felt his heart rate slowly decreasing, his breaths becoming slower and slower as he came down from the furious rage he had managed to work himself into. 'I was breathing heavy.. and my heart rate was that high? I...I didn't even notice.'

 _"Feeling better now, sir? Your blood pressure has lowered to acceptable levels."_

"T...t-thank you, S.I.A." Colin took heavy, slow breaths as he tried to process what happened to him. 'Hypertension? Maybe...'

 _"Do you feel faint, sir? I recommend lying down. It wouldn't be good to have you losing consciousness."_

"Yes. T-that would seem like the best...idea. Lower suit enhancement to minimal levels."

 _"Yes, sir."_

Colin stepped backwards a few feet, slumping onto his cot while still clad in full armor. A moment later, he felt the suit's grip over his muscles loosen slightly. He let out a sigh as he stared up at the white ceiling of his lab. 'Is this what I want with my life? Is this what Hero would want for me? Stressing myself to the point of a heart attack. Complaining over a position that's doing nothing but driving me crazy?' He rolled over onto his side, uncaring over the fact that the military cot was slightly slumping from his quarter ton of weight. 'What is wrong with me?'

Colin sat up in his seat, confused as to just what he had been doing with his life. "My God...I've turned into my father."

" _Code P15 Emergency! Code P15 Emergency!"_

Armsmaster looked up from his musings and glanced at the large screen by his cot flashing with a red light. 'Another gang riot?' Armsmaster thought to himself. Shaking his head, he turned away. 'I'm gone for five days and this city goes to hell. Typical. They can handle this one on their own.'

"S.I.A., mute Emergency Alarm."

 _"Yes, sir."_

The blaring alarm and flashing red light cut off abruptly, leaving Armsmaster in silence once more, staring at the floor. That silence didn't last for long as a few minutes later, he heard the signature 'ping' that told him Dragon accessing his lab's systems.

"Colin, you have to get out there! Your entire city's falling apart. The ABB are going wild in the streets and...What are you wearing?"

Colin picked his head up from the floor and stared at Dragon through the screen. He stood up and offered the false avatar a smile, albeit one that was somewhat forced. "Hello, Dragon."

"You finished the suit?"

Armsmaster nodded calmly, raising up an arm to display the flexible memory metal exoskeleton. "I call it the A.R.M. Suit."

Dragon raised a virtual eyebrow at the acronym. "A.R.M.?"

"Augmented Reaction and Movement. Designed to increase my physical ability up to a maximum of one thousand percent."

Dragon blinked as Armsmaster explained. "That's amazing. It guarantees at least a Brute 4 rating, maybe a Mover 3. That's leagues over your old suit but...how did you finish?" Her surprise was easily detectable from her tone. "It's been two days since I last spoke to you."

"Simple hard work and determination," Armsmaster replied with a wry smile. 'And more than a few doses of Tinker-derived stimulants and cognitive enhancement drugs.'

"The suit...It's quite impressive." Dragon was silent for a moment as she stared at Colin, as if committing his new look to memory. "With that hair and beard...you look very similar to..."

He raised a hand up and shook his head. "I know...Hero. It surprised me too."

Dragon tilted her head and blinked. "It's a new...look for you. With both the costume change and your hair, I don't think most people would recognize you."

Armsmaster shook his head. "If they couldn't already infer my identity from my halberd and spear, I wouldn't want them to recognize me."

"Very funny, Colin. So, I assume you will keep the hair?"

He shrugged. "Most likely. I'm no longer the Head of the Protectorate anymore and I think I've been stressing myself too much. I'm going to take a page from Hero's book and let my hair down a bit, literally more so than figuratively."

Dragon nodded. "I'm here on an emergency situation. Militia had me contact you. The city's engulfed in another riot. It's..."

"ABB?" Armsmaster interrupted bluntly.

"Yes. How did..."

"Who else would it be?" Armsmaster said with a sigh. "The Empire cares about amassing power, the Merchants don't want to put in all that much effort. The ABB are the only group in this city who think mindless violence would increase their status."

"Well, according to several camera feeds, I can conclude that the ABB has finally made use of Bakuda. Several explosives detonated across the city match the ones she used at Cornell, only much more powerful. The ABB seemed to have forcefully conscripted dozens of civilians into their ranks."

"Well, isn't that delightful?" Colin drawled, cupping his forehead with a gloved hand. "Of course you know that there's only two reasons that they would be doing this. Either to serve as a distraction to breakout Lung or simply to show that they aren't weak without him by causing their signature mayhem."

Dragon nodded. "That is what I had assumed, yes."

"Which means that my assistance would most likely be needed in preventing either outcome," Armsmaster replied, sighing again.

Dragon rolled her eyes. "I'm sure they'd appreciate it very much. They'd be hopeless without you, after all."

"True." Armsmaster took her words at face value, simply nodding. "Access Code: Hasta, Arma." The wall by his side flipped open, revealing a long spear done in silver and blue coloring and a tall halberd that was designed in much the same way. Grabbing both, he held them to to his back where they clung magnetically to him.

"S.I.A, increase levels to 250%."

 _"Yes, sir. Levels to 250%. I took the liberty of activating necessary combat functions for you."_

"Thank you." Colin felt the suit constrict around his muscles and the slight hum increase in volume. He looked up only to blink in surprise at the pointed look Dragon seemed to be giving him. "Dragon?"

"Colin, who is S.I.A.?" Her voice was blank, the warmth from just a few moments ago missing.

"Who..." He blinked again, somewhat confused. "Oh, S.I.A's just the interface I use with the new suit." As Dragon continued to stare at him, he added, "I suppose I could introduce you."

"Please do so."

"S.I.A., activate external speakers and projector."

There was a pause and then S.I.A. responded, this time not directly into his ears.

 _"Yes, sir. External speakers functional. Volume at 25%. Anything else, sir?"_ As she spoke, his triangular chest-plate flashed and the life-size hologram of a young woman barely out of her teens appeared in front of him. Apart from the fact that she was tinted blue and completely naked, she looked like a regular 18 year old, albeit perfectly symmetrical. She did a little twirl as her hologram finished loading and a blue sundress appeared on her. She opened her eyes, exposing a set of odd blue-and-black pupils. _"Hello."_

"S.I.A., I'd like to introduce you to Dragon. I've told you a great deal about her." He gestured toward the image of Dragon on the screen, idly noting that her eyes seemed to have narrowed into slits.

 _"Hello Madame Dragon, I am S.I.A, Sir Armsmaster's Synthetic Intelligent Assistant. I've heard a lot about you from him."_ Her voice was eager and polite, complementing her English accent and friendly smile.

Dragon's lips curled up in a thin smile and her eyes closed as she gave a small laugh. "That's interesting, SAI, was it? He hasn't mentioned a word about you."

 _"It's S.I.A., actually, and I believe Sir Armsmaster hasn't spoken to you once in the past 48 hours. It would only be logical for you to be unaware of current events as pertaining to Sir Armsmaster."_

For a moment, Dragon's gaze swiveled to Armsmaster with the same blank expression as before. "He's been busy," Dragon turned back to S.I.A., "with you, apparently."

S.I.A. gave a small laugh, surprising Armsmaster with how human it sounded. _"That is true. Sir Armsmaster and I spent several hours engaged in conversation yesterday. He is a very intelligent man."_

Dragon glanced at him again, her eyes little more than slits again. "Isn't he?"

Armsmaster, detecting that Dragon was displeased somehow, spoke up. "Shouldn't I be heading out now, Dragon? We can continue this later."

"Yes," she paused to lock eyes with S.I.A. again, "We will."

"S.I.A., back inside the suit."

 _"Yes, sir."_ The hologram vanished quickly.

Armsmaster looked up to see Dragon still staring at him that same way. Had he done or said something wrong? Was that it? 'Maybe if I get her attention away from me?'

Colin cleared his throat. His tone was measured as he spoke again."Dragon, what do you think of S.I.A.? Rather advanced for a virtual assistant, isn't she?"

"Advanced...I'd say so, yes." Dragon turned away from Armsmaster with a confused expression on her face. "I have to go. I'll speak with you later, Colin. One of my drones will be down there to assist."

The screen switched off and Armsmaster was left alone in the silence of his lab once again.

'I think that went rather well. Dragon seemed rather curious about her. Most likely interested in her programming. She might have a better understanding of it than me,' Armsmaster thought calmly.

He turned towards the door to his lab and a frown slowly began to form on his face as he thought about the worthless city outside, the city that thought him a laughingstock compared to Dauntless or Assault. It didn't matter. He was a hero. He had a job to do.

Closing his eyes, he let out a low breath and recalled Hero's words.

' _Remember Collie, just do your job.'_

'Just do my job. Just do my job. Simple.' After taking a moment to center himself, he opened them and walked closer to the door. "Access Code: Austium."

The door slid open in a pneumatic hiss and his frown lightened a bit. He didn't care if the city ended up a ruin with Lung and Kaiser battling to the death over the right to rule the ashes. Regardless, he would still help. Two people who he actually enjoyed being around, Miss Militia and Dragon, had requested it of him and he'd honor that request.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward. "Let's do this."

 _"Yes, sir."_


	43. Interlude 2j: Evron Grey and Craig Kelle

Interlude 2j: Evron Grey (Titan/Deus) & Craig Keller(Tech-Head)

 **Earth-Grey**

 **JULY 2326 (2 YEARS BEFORE THE SHIFT TO BET)**

 **FREUDENSTADT, GERMANY**

His appearance was heralded with a flash of light and a sound of thunder.

Those who were walking along the streets of Freudenstadt looked up in shock, wondering what could have caused such a spectacle.

He could see the surprise and curiosity on their faces slowly warp into fear as they caught sight of him, floating high above their city. Their fear was well-founded, in his opinion. With the sun to his back, they could not see his face or any real sign of his identity and that was enough to send even the bravest normal man into a panic. More often that not, a mysterious superhuman appearing without cause often meant death for many people in the past. It meant your city would soon be in ruins, your home in shambles, your life rendered forfeit to a power surpassing yours.

It stood as a symbol for all the darkness and horror the world thrusted on the weak, unsuspecting masses.

At least, it once used to...

Now, things were very much different.

Still, they were his people and they needed him to show them that the world was good and just. For all they knew, it was his light against the world's darkness, fighting for their peace and destroying the violent monsters that threatened that. He stood as the world's shining symbol to give them the hope they needed to keep on living. They needed him as much as he needed them.

He gazed down at the city and it's anxious people, noting the tense expression on their faces. He knew of their population and it's dwindling numbers. Neatly all the people with actual powers had left once the Wave hit, going to bigger and better cities for more opportunity. The few that were left were little more than Blanks. How could they stop him? They couldn't, of course. This town was little more than the base for a single hero and he wouldn't dare go against him.

Behind him, clouds began to roll across the sky and for a moment, the sun is covered and the people catch a glimpse of something else.

The glowing blue of his eyes as he looks past the ground and his mouth; sharp, white teeth almost constantly stretched into a wide smile. Those are all they glimpse before the sun breaks free of the clouds but it is enough. The screams begin.

His smile waned as they began to run around, fear overtaking any rationality they possessed. Watching them...scurrying like rats in their panic, raised both feelings of disgust and pity in him. Sighing deeply, he raised a hand and began to knead his brow. "God, I hate this part. Let's just get this over with."

He slowly began to descend, his jacket billowing in the wind behind him. He kept his movement slow and steady, allowing the people below time to overcome their panic.

Slowly, the screams of fear turned to gasps and exclamations of excitement as they were able to fully see him for who he was.

He heard their voices even as high up as he was.

 _"Mein Herr..."_

 _"Mein Konig..."_

 _"Herr Titan..."_

 _"Herr Deus..."_

That last name nearly brought a scowl to his face but he kept himself calm and his face impassive. The people of Freudenstadt, no longer fearful as they discerned his identity, fell to their knees chanting in German as rapturous expressions of sheer _joy_ filled their faces.

He touched down gently and their voices hushed, all of them just staring at him. _"Please, rise,"_ he spoke softly in German.

The people slowly rose but they still continued to stare at him.

Evron sighed internally as he looked at the crowd and saw many expectant faces. He knew what they were waiting for. _"Eternal, the Nexus rules..."_

 _"eternally we serve..."_ hundreds replied in unison.

 _"Power he gifts to his servants..."_

Again they replied, _"Power we use to serve..."_

 _"From the Void, he protects existence...,"_

 _"As we exist, the Void corrupts,"_

 _"The Nexus is all..."_

 _"All are the Nexus,"_ they concluded.

Their chanting began again in force and Evron bit back another sigh. 'I should have stopped Lia from bringing her religion to Earth when I had the chance.' People had already taken to forming cults around certain heroes. An entire pre-formed religion based around that being dropped in their lap was just too tempting fot most. Hero worship was one thing but actual hero worship was an entirely new level of problematic, especially when it just kept spreading so fast. It wasn't as if he didn't believe what he said. He had first-hand proof that the religion wasn't complete lies but still...worshiping Nexus? The idea left him more than a little annoyed. But he hated having to recite those words with a straight face every time a believer approached him. It irritated him much in the same way people calling him "Deus" did.

He floated above the crowd, leaving the people to their prayer, and continued his flight, the massive cubic building at the far edge of the city his destination. There were no doors, no windows, no visible source of ventilation to the building; a simple solid black cube that bore the acronym 'E.D.G' in massive lettering at the top. Coming to a stop, he put a hand to it and waited. A moment later, the surface rippled like a pond, a small hole growing until there was space for him to fly through without trouble.

The second he entered, he saw them. Various humanoid figures of differing sizes roamed throughout the facility performing various tasks. They never left the building, all their tasks designed to keep them occupied until they became obsolete and inevitably replaced. None of them possessed A.I., of course. Synthoids would never be delegated to such menial tasks by choice. These were simple androids that the facility utilized in order to limit the human element and enhance efficiency.

Moving slower now that he was indoors, Evron continued his flight and moved past the various androids that populated the building. They paid him no attention, simply continuing their tasks. He flew through the building, noting that despite the dull, metallic design, there was still one element of color at regular intervals. His symbol, or rather Titanwatch's symbol, was emblazoned on every entrance, hallway and occasionally on the floor.

After a journey that consisted of navigating through many hallways and descending hundreds of floors, he finally reached it...the lowest basement level of E.D.G. Technologies. At over five kilometers beneath the surface, the place was built inside and beneath part of a mountain range and constantly expanding. At least, that's what M.A.I.A. had told Evron when he asked. A single tall hallway that stretched the length of a football field with dozens of doors along it took up most of the space. The vents, walls and doors were hermetically sealed, leaving the place without air if any intruder made their way in. Lock-down doors were also hidden, recessed in the walls, ready to clamp down and prevent escape in the event that said intruder made their way past the army of combat droids that worked in the facility. Even if they could survive anaerobically and defeat the droids, Evron knew that there was hidden weaponry ready to destroy nearly any intruder. Some people may have found that the level of security in E.D.G was overkill but those people had never met Craig Keller.

He flew down the ballroom-height hallway, idly noting how much security had been planned into the building. Nearly invisible cameras were everywhere, allowing for no blind spots and constantly monitored by the synthetic guards that roamed the facility.

Stopping his flight at the end of the hallway, he took in the sight of a door so massive it took up nearly the entire wall space. The door, much like every other door on this level, could only be accessed by two individuals on the planet through their own unique method. Anyone else would be left to use force, a futile effort against the warship-class durasteel plating most of the building was constructed with.

Evron was not one of those two special people. As such, even though force was not a limitation for him, he had chosen to rely on another, _less explosive_ , method of entry.

Closing his eyes, Evron floated forwards until his hands were pressed up against the door. He stayed still as he hung in the air, preparing himself for what he knew he would not enjoy.

He _focused._

A numbing sensation somewhat similar to being dunked into frozen water rushed through his veins the instant he slipped through the door. He surfaced a few seconds later and dropped to the ground in an ungrateful heap. Pulling himself up to his knees, Evron found himself struggling to stand as he tried to convince his mind that he wasn't choking.

Needless to say, it wasn't going very well.

With a single hand held over his chest and another to the ground to steady himself, he was unable to stop himself from gasping and spluttering helplessly as his breath staggered and vestigial lungs begged greedily for air he hadn't needed in over four years. He knew his body was perfectly fine. He had taken gaping holes to the torso with much less trouble than this but for some reason, this had taken it's toll on him.

Taking in another unnecessary breath, he lifted himself into the air again and sent a glare at the three-meters of super-dense metal that dared to masquerade itself as a door. He already found it hard to use a subtle power like intangibility. Having to phase through a material like that only made it worse. 'Although, it's not just the material,' Evron thought to himself, 'I'm pretty sure this place still has a frag field around it. At least I didn't teleport in.'

Evron took a moment to wince, the thought of having to regenerate from a red mist more than a little daunting. Shaking his head, he turned to glance around the room he had just entered. The place itself was huge, befitting the size of the door that was built into it. Lining nearly every inch of the other three walls were hundreds of car sized doors, each with a small walkway jutting out from them. Evron already knew what they held and he didn't care. What he was here for was directly in front of him, where a rush of mechanical activity could be heard.

A tangle of wires and a variety of colored metallic tubes, hundreds of them, dangled from the ceiling while various fluids pumped through them. A mostly bare endoskeleton, completely made out of the same dull-gray metal as the building, hung from them while several metallic arms and tools buzzed and whirred as they continued their task. It wasn't an entire skeleton, simply a torso and pelvis, but it was slowly being rebuilt. Piece by piece, a robotic approximation of a human body was sculpted by the arms and tools. Legs and feet were attached to the torso, followed shortly by a pair of arms that seemed a bit large to be proportionate with the rest of the body. Shortly after, light gray fluid with a metallic sheen coiled it's way over the endoskeleton in layers, forming ridges and curves that would be familiar to anyone intimate with the anatomy of human muscle. A pink fluid easily recognizable as the nano-constructed material known as Synthskin made it's way over his body, leaving the formerly metal body looking perfectly human, albeit without a head.

The construction wasn't done, however. Machinery around the neck of the body extended a few inches upwards and one of the constructing arms lowered the final piece from the ceiling.

Chin-length brown hair, an aquiline nose, and thin, taciturn lips, as always.

It never changed. Evron knew that the hair and skin were completely fake but that wasn't the point. The face was still the same. No matter what he did to his body, no matter how many functions and weaponry and tools he installed into himself, he never changed his looks.

As the construction was completed, the body was slowly lowered to the ground and finally placed on a steel slab that hovered above the ground.

Evron walked over to Craig's inanimate form, and stood silently as he waited for his systems to turn on. He had found himself distancing himself from Craig as time went on or maybe it was the other way around? Regardless, he knew that Craig had never fully forgiven him for the part he played in the events that had led to him losing his limbs. No matter how many times Evron tried to forget, he could never seem to scrub out the memory of how he found his friend that day.

 _Evron slammed his shoulder into the already crumpled door, screaming like a madman. With a screech of metal, it gave in and fell to the floor. Cradling his bruised shoulder, Evron jumped into the room._

 _"Craig!"_

 _Blinking through watery eyes, he took in the destroyed laboratory as his eyes searched for any sign of his friend. Sparking wires and machines lay on the floor, shattered beyond all repair, while the walls themselves were scarred with claw marks that looked like they came from one massive predator. Scorched holes in the ceiling and floor emitted smoke and glowed a soft orange as the embers began to die out._

 _Worst of all was the blood._

 _There was just so much of it. It was...it was everywhere. The floor and walls were painted with red and the metallic smell was so pervasive that it partly masked the smell of smoke and dust in the room._

 _Seeing the red liquid only made his heart beat faster._

 _"Craig!" he screamed._

 _Silence._

 _"Craig! Say something, man!" Tears rolled down his face and an unwanted laugh ripped from his throat. "Please! Craig! Craig!"_

 _"CRAIG!"_

"..."

 _He paused as he finally heard something other than the sparking of broken machinery and the periodic 'drip-drip' of blood. A soft breathing sound and a gentle mumbling..._

 _It was him._

 _"Craig!" Evron's head whipped around as he tried to discern where the voice was coming from. There was so much rubble in the vast lab. He could search for days in here and judging from all the blood, Craig didn't have much longer._

 _"..."_

 _He heard it again. His eyes landed on a smaller pile of rubble next to a broken capsule by the wall and he knew that under all that debris, he'd find his friend. He dropped to his knees, uncaring as glass and metal cut into he trousers of his suit and stabbed at his thighs, mixing his own blood with the puddle already on the floor. Laughter bubbled up in his chest as he felt the pain and he let it out, cackling like a hyena as he continued to dig into the rubble with his bare hands._

 _He pushed aside a piece of plaster and heard the sound again, this time louder. He could actually hear the voice this time as it mumbled again._

 _"...ev..."_

 _"Craig, I'm almost there. Hold on!' Hearing his name only bolstered his efforts and he moved faster, throwing rubble away until only one massive peace was left. He tried to lift the last piece of rubble but found it too large and heavy. Again, he tried to lift it but only ended up exhausting himself, his muscles straining to even budge the thing._

 _Stumbling back, he hunched over and gasped, much needed air rushing into his lungs. "Only once choice." Pulling off his suit jacket, he ripped open the silk fabric and rustled around in the lining of the suit. Pulling out a white finger-sized capsule, he held it to his wrist and slammed his other hand down on the top. A giggle leaked from his tightly closed lips as the contents of the capsule raced into his veins._

 _It hurt every time he Redlined. Injecting himself with the artificial powers was already painful in the extreme. Without a base as a stabilizing agent, it was downright dangerous._

 _But this was an emergency._

 _He doubled over as his blood vessels began to constrict, the serum speeding up his heart rate. He could feel the painful heat racing down his body with his heart as the focal point. His veins bulged with what looked like red dye and his muscles expanded grotesquely. Blood vessels near his eyes constricted as the blue of his eyes was replaced by a dark red. He cried out in a wet gurgle of pain that quickly shifted into peals of mad laughter and the pain eased slightly, allowing him to think._

 _Bending over again, he gripped the large slab of concrete and lifted, utilizing his newly enhanced muscles._

 _A burst of pain ran up his tender nerves at the unwise move so soon after a Redline but Evron ignored it. This was for his friend._

 _With the massive piece of building material secure in his arms, he threw it to the side and looked down._

 _Unfocused eyes stared up at him from a pale, gaunt face._

 _"Ev...you...came..."_

 _"Craig..." His heart sunk as he took in his friend's injuries._

 _His nose had been removed, forcibly torn from his face by the signs of the injury it left. A long thin cut was visible from his temple to his chin. Evron's fingers clenched as he realized that they had attempted to flay the skin of his face._

 _Jagged slashes around his midsection dripped blood all over the floor while guts lay beside him. One of his arms was bent at an impossible angle, the ribbons of muscle able to seen without the protective layer of skin covering it. It shuddered as air and dust came into contact with the exposed flesh._

 _His other arm was completely gone, the nub of forearm left behind completely encased in a silvery metal shell. His legs were much the same, one completely skinned and twitching as it was left exposed. The other leg had been removed up to the pelvis and it too was cocooned in metal._

 _"Ev..." Craig opened his mouth to speak only to hack up gobs of blood, further covering his chest with red. He looked up again, hazel eyes meeting red, and his lips moved silently for a moment until his eyes closed and he slowly went still._

 _"No...no...nononononono!" Ev jumped to his feet. He wasn't going to let this happen. He wasn't going to let his friend die like this. Craig was not going to die. NOT NOW, NOT EVER! There was still time. The two-minute mark had not yet passed, after all. If it worked for him, he could do it for anyone else._

 _He shoved his hand into the lining of his suit again and pulled out two more items. Another white capsule filled with a green liquid and a knife. He grabbed the torn remains of his suit and did his best to push his friend's entrails back into his body before tying the cloth around the gaping wounds. Grabbing the knife, he tensed his still bulging muscles and plunged the blade into his wrist with his new strength._

 _Blood poured from the wound and he splashed it over his friend's body, making sure to pour it down his throat. This had to work. It had to._

 _He took hold of the capsule and with a grunt, stabbed the end into his friend's chest and pushed down. Green liquid rushed into his friend's chest and met his own blood. The scent of the active serum, which reeked of blood and a strong acrid smell of burnt flesh, hung in the air as it was set loose._

 _For a moment, nothing happened._

 _Then, Evron saw movement._

 _Craig's body jerked as if stuck by lightning and his eyes bolted open. For a moment, the teen simply glanced around as if in shock at his continued existence. Then his mangled, broken arm twitched and jerked as the bone began to set and the rest of his body followed suit._

 _The screams began. Blood-curdling screams of unending pain. It hurt too much for Craig to vocalize it but, just from his eyes alone, Evron knew he was begging to be put out of his misery._

 _Ev knelt down and held his friend's screaming, spasming body in his arms, knowing full well how much pain he was going through. People never understood what he went through most of the time when he got hurt. They never understood because he was always laughing when someone stabbed him in the chest or broke his arm. They never understood because he brushed it off. Healing always hurt more than receiving the wounds._

 _He wanted to cry, he really did, but his face curled up into a rigid parody of a smile and the laughter wouldn't stop pouring out. The sound of muscle and bone cracking as the revived teen screamed combined with Evron's uncontrollable cackling made a gruesome melody, echoing loudly in the destroyed laboratory._

[LOCATION: KELLER_BASE/EDGTECHNOLOGYMAINLAB]

[CRAIG_KELLER/VERSION_22_WW MODE: UPGRADE STASIS]

TIMESTAMP: 2326-06-02 T13:22:042:014:028:032:044

SYSTEM_STATUS: UPGRADE COMPLETED.

TIMESTAMP: 2326-06-02 T13:22:042:014:028:032:045

EXITING UPGRADE STASIS...

ENTERING STANDBY...

INITIALIZING START-UP MEMCHECK...

SYSTEM_STATUS: MEMCHECK_OK

LOADING CORE FUNCTIONS

RUNNING CRAIG_KELLER/VERSION_22 WETWARE DIAGNOSTICS...

SYSTEM_STATUS: DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. WETWARE DATA FREE OF CORRUPTION.

RUNNING S.L.A.P. SYSTEMS MK. XCV HARDWARE DIAGNOSTICS...

SUPER LIGHT ASSAULT PROSTHESIS (S.L.A.P.) SYSTEMS MK. XCV SYSTEMS DIAGNOSTICS

ZIRINIUM REACTOR OUTPUT: 100%

DERMAL INTEGRITY: 100%

COMMUNICATION SYSTEMS: ONLINE

NEURAL CONNECTION STATUS: ONLINE

SENSOR ARRAY: ONLINE

SENSORY SIMULATORS: ONLINE

KINETIC ENHANCEMENT CAPACITY: 001%

MODULAR FUNCTIONALITY: ONLINE

SYSTEM_STATUS: DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. S.L.A.P. SYSTEMS FULLY FUNCTIONAL.

SYSTEM_STATUS: S.L.A.P. USER INTERFACE UPDATED AND COMPATIBLE WITH CRAIG_KELLER/VERSION_22_WW.

CONFIGURING CRAIG_KELLER/VERSION_22_WW FOR BOOT...

RESTORING SETTINGS...

CONFIGURING START-UP MODE...

SYSTEM_STATUS: ONLINE

TIMESTAMP: 2326-06-02 T13:22:042:014:028:033:09

[CRAIG_KELLER/VERSION_22_WW MODE: ONLINE]

He awoke to an unending barrage of data.

His mind raced in it's constant rush to process the information and utilize it, as it always did, and he could already feel the boredom and annoyance creeping in. Twenty-three years of incessant mental noise with no rest and no end in sight tends to wreak havoc on one's attention span.

The level of frustration that it brought him was unimaginable. No one could imagine the stress of waking up and, within a sixteenth of a picosecond, being bombarded with exabytes upon exabytes of ever increasing pointless streams of garbage that all his sensors, satellites, drones and networks reported to him.

After a moment of thought, Craig gave in and made a half-hearted attempt to sift through the data stream...

[:T13:23:039: KUIPER BELT MINING DRONE 2478 REPORTING A...:]

[:T13:24:022: REPORT FROM AREN ABOUT O.D.I.N. EXPENDITURES...:]

[:UPGRADE TO S.L.A.M and S.H.A.M. COMBAT PROSTHESIS NECESSARY FOR...:]

[:T13:24:024: PRISONER X-25 SELF-TERMINA...:]

[:T13:24:025: S.U.P.E.R. MAX PRISON A.I. COMPLAINS OF FUNCTIONAL...:]

'Ugh.' More worthless nonsense being crammed down his processors.

'I can't deal with this right now.' He gave a mental sigh. 'Initiate dual protocols: Peace and quiet. Dumb it down.'

INITIATE_PROTOCOL: PEACE_AND_QUIET.

INITIATE_PROTOCOL: DUMB_IT_DOWN.

PROTOCOL_INITIATED: P.A.Q. INITIATED. INDIRECT COMMUNICATIONS ARRAY SILENCED FOR 01:60:59.

PROTOCOL_INITIATED: D.I.D. INITIATED. CARDIAC FUNCTIONS AT 500%. ADMINISTERING SYNTHETIC HYPER-OPIATE. STIMULATING DOPAMINE PRODUCTION. EXPECT IMPAIRED COGNITIVE FUNCTION.

'I'm definitely expecting it.' The drugs rushed through his veins immediately as his nano-machine coated heart pumped at speeds that would instantly lead to cardiac arrest for the average person. 'There it is.' He let out a sigh of relief as his thoughts began to dull and the data stream trickled down to nothing, leaving his mind empty and quiet.

Craig embraced the silence. The noise was just too much for him to deal with sometimes, especially so soon after coming online. He needed some time alone with his thoughts and for once, he had it. The drugs let him think straight, allowing his mind to actually think about his life. Frankly, as lives go, his was pretty good. He was in position of power that was essentially unmatched by anyone else in the world, and he had a girl that truly understood him, idiosyncrasies and all. Honestly, he felt strangely at peace with himself...although that was most likely the hyper-opiates talking.

Still, it had been a long road to get to where he was now, a long, hard road that had ended with many people dead and his life in shambles more than once. As a Hyper-cognitive, he had a mental acuity even surpassing most Brain types. Despite his magnificent intellect, his mind had created a great deal of problems for him and others in his life, all of those leading to his current cybernetic state.

His childhood had been a normal one for the wealthy; his prenatal development being an eighteen month stay in an artificial womb clinic. Craig actually remembered those strange days clearly, his eidetic memory replaying them in his head every time he thought of his parents. Even as a fetus, his mind had wanted to learn and he did learn a lot. He recalled a soft, warm place; which he knew now was a artificial womb inside a birthing pod, where he was always full and comfortable. No pain or weakness in the soft, warm place. While in the pod, classical music and educational audio was piped in and his mind took in all of it like a sponge, gaining an understanding of the outside world that would have been more in line with a five year old.

Life had changed after his eighteenth month when he was finally removed from his pod. He was given to his parents and they took him home where he encountered a crying four year old he would soon learn was his older sister.

He remained a rather unresponsive newborn with an eerie habit of simply staring at things. Never crying once, in direct contrast to his vocal older sister, only served to highlight his strangeness.

As he grew older, he began to realize how out of depth he was with people his age. Although his genius was legendary, he soon learned that he had to struggle to be accepted in any social group. Technically speaking, while he showed the traits of a superhuman, he did not register under any of the classes. He lacked the retrovirus-induced gene found in all mutants, ruling him out of that subclass. As far as they knew, no one else in his family or social circle had any mutant abilities, ruling out the development of a transhuman ability through close social contact. While his intelligence did grow over time like a metahuman's abilities, the increase in his abilities had nothing to do with being around many powerful superhumans or close contact to Zirinium radiation. To make matters worse, he had almost no Zirin in his system as a child. In fact, he had less than the average amount of the substance found in standard humans, making it impossible for him to be anything other than 100% homo sapiens. And yet, his intelligence was so obviously unnatural that normal people couldn't relate to him.

The emotional stress of his mind and it's confusing nature were only aggravated by his social isolation and growing sense of inferiority at his imperfection. Unlike nearly all children born of wealthy parents since the the 23rd century, Craig Keller's genetic structure was untouched due to a formerly unheard of genetic defect that technically made him a throwback. No alterations had been made to improve his genes in any way. As such, when he saw his older sister every day, he was struck by how much better she seemed to be than himself, at least appearance wise. In fact, with all his other wealthy age mates looking as stunning as they did with shiny hair, perfect skin, teeth, eyes and physical features that belonged to models and then comparing those to his limp, scraggly hair, lanky frame and weak body, Craig could almost hear the long-held beliefs about his own superiority shattering like glass in his mind. His genius had only alienated him from the world. He had never been to school, never had friends, never engaged with anyone his own age for longer than a few moments. Even though he appreciated his parent's decision but many times, after catching sight of his appearance, he found himself wishing they had simply discarded his fetus and begun anew.

It might have been easier on him, at least.

[DM: A.I.M-1520]

Craig frowned as a slight notification interrupted his drug-induced introspection. 'A direct message from one of the droids at the main desk?' For a moment, he toyed with the idea of responding or at least reading the message but instead, chose to ignore it.

Anything of importance would be intercepted by his subroutines and duly processed later...or if he was feeling lazy, M.A.I.A would simply take care of it for him. He didn't have the temperament to sift through exabytes upon exabytes of data without a good reason, unlike his girl. He wasn't a machine...well, not completely, at least. Wait...was he? He supposed it didn't really matter anymore.

He gave an internal shrug at the thought, unsure of what to think there. With all the modifications to his mind, he was only as human as he wanted to be, really. In fact, the only reason he was still lying down was due to the very human trait of laziness that he had left in his mind. He didn't feel like working all the time, after all. '...time? I wonder how long I've been down in the sub-basement anyway.'

Even though he hadn't opened his eyes yet, his H.U.D. sprang up on the underside of his eyelids in response to his idle thought.

T13:22:042:014:028:035:024

1:22 PM? He had been under for a total of twelve hours, then.

As advanced as he was, Craig normally didn't require rest the way a human or even most synthoids did.

His body and mind were of his own creation, extensively modified and enhanced leagues beyond what any sane individual thought possible but he had always been better than most.

His cognitive ability had grown with him as he aged, dwarfing even his parents; despite their accomplishments in their respective fields. By his second birthday, his vocabulary and comprehension ability were on par with a collegiate student's.

By age six, his knowledge had expanded to programming and robotics, leading to him creating a a set of droids that made the current model obsolete. He would go on to sell the patent to Grey industries for a tidy sum, making himself the richest toddler in the world. By eight years old, he had utilized nearly the entire amount of his savings to create a new form of energy that could match Grey Industry's Ziridite reactor. His attempts to work with antimatter ended up costing him all his money and investors after an accident with the volatile substance ruined his lab and took out an entire building, killing more than a few people. Attempts to play the incident off as a small setback were not received well.

Criticism was never something he had to deal with, not from the public and definitely not his own family. He retreated into himself at that point. The stress of never being able to stop thinking combined with the pressure from his family of intellectuals as well as the scorn of many upstaged researchers had broken him. He stopped caring and at the tender age of ten, turned to drug abuse. A known "hyper-opiate" designed for Hypercognitives known as DUD was his solace, allowing him to relax without thinking. While his brain was designed to handle the rigors of parallel processing and that skill had only improved exponentially over the years with the addition of other abilities, the tension it placed on his emotions and psyche were not as easily managed without a numbing agent.

Meeting Evron and Anton had been a light in the darkness, allowing him to ignore the stressors in his life. While his father had discouraged him from making friends with the Grey family for some odd reason, Craig enjoyed both their company. Anton, already a muscular Tank at six feet, had surprised him with his own thoughts about improving medical care and treatment for superhuman biology. Evron, only a hyperactive speedster at the time, hadn't really cared much about science, being more excited with the weaponry and power suits that Craig had created. A night of crazy fun had ensued shortly after, culminating in several million dollars worth of destroyed property. Somehow, Evron had cleared up the whole situation with a single phone call.

The three stayed close friends for some time, adding two more people into their group. Evron's friend Cesar, a mutant with a penchant for bugs and explosives and Anton's friend, Michael, a metahuman whose powers were entirely based around costume design. Two years later, Ev and Anton had approached him for help in their efforts to become actual heroes. Seeing as he had nothing better to do, he went along with their idea, serving as their back-up, informant and equipment handler all at once.

Everything had been fine for him until Mayhem found him. The teenage group of mutant psychos had learned about the strange case of someone not bearing any evidence of mutation but still displaying enhanced abilities and decided that he was an insult to mutantkind. With the team away and Evron without his powers, all they had to do was slaughter their way through dozens of government agents and police officers. Mayhem found him hiding in a panic room and dragged him out to the center of his lab. What they did to him there...he didn't think he'd ever forget it.

They actually left him alive after they dismembered him, their attack on him intended more as a lesson than anything else. He hated them even more for that.

While only his arm and leg were lost in his encounter with Mayhem, over time he would continue his modifications until nearly eighty-eight percent of his muscles, skin and other fleshy bits were technically bionic. The squishier human parts of him, organs and the like, had simply been given a makeover at the nanoscopic scale with a large coating of highly advanced nano-material to reinforce his insides from external damage.

His need for revenge against his would-be killers combined with his innate desire for perfection led him to increase his modification efforts, ignoring all else. Deducing that his neuroses were the cause of his failures, he immediately began brain modification, and quickly accomplished the primary goal of eliminating his phobia of helplessness. His next neural modification was based on a banned procedure his father had invented, a near-constant stimulation of a violent criminal's right temporo-parietal junction to enhance their sense of morality. Craig, after studying the details for less than an hour, immediately performed the inverse on himself, muting the morality center of his brain in pursuit of a mind free of human worries and societal pressure. The requirement for sleep was another human weakness done away with in his first series of planned upgrades. A genius of his magnitude didn't feel the need to waste eight hours of an entire day asleep doing nothing. He'd rather spend those eight hours awake...and doing nothing.

However, when it came time for him to perform an upgrade on himself, he did have to enter stasis so that his internal data wouldn't suffer any corruption. He had once considered staying awake for it and modifying himself piece by piece like most synthoids but he had no intention of looking like some patchwork creature. When he was only an Alpha in Titanwatch, he had performed full-body modifications to maintain an image of inviolability and perfection. Regardless of his thoughts on gradual modification, the point was rendered moot once he had adopted his full-body nanosheath and prosthesis. Now, when he performed an upgrade, it was everything or nothing.

Still, as his complexity grew, the time required for a renovation of his systems grew as well, going from a simple twenty minutes to a whopping twelve hours with his more recent mods. Being non-responsive for half a day was as inconvenient as it seemed so he liked to space out the upgrades to his civilian body, only going under every ninety days.

His most recent and powerful upgrade, the alien-derived T.E.C.H. body, had actually led to him going under two months early. The Tactically Enhanced Combat Hyper prosthesis had been derived from an alien species known as the Vaal that Titanwatch had terminated just a few months ago, an entire race of cyborgs all living in an artificial planet that was actually a giant mech. While he had regretted the destruction of the titanic mech, he did take joy in going through the wreckage and discovering new technologies and weaponry for himself to study and integrate into his systems. The T.E.C.H. prosthesis had been derived almost entirely from the Vaal technology, with only the operating system being completely his own.

While it was his most versatile non-combat prosthesis to date, it's sheer multitude of weaponry and the fact that it was designed for use by an alien A.I. made it a bit of a struggle to control some of it's systems. While most functions worked perfectly, the weaponry and defensive modules could be a bit...finnicky. He had tried his best to manage it's slight problems but after accidentally turning a criminal into a smear on the ground when he had only meant to stun, both Anton and M.A.I.A had recommended he modify himself a bit ahead of schedule.

While Anton was one of his closest friends and M.A.I.A was his girlfriend, he hadn't given their worries much thought. He was the genius, after all, inventing and innovating all the tech they used. Besides, he was much too busy working on perfecting the O.D.I.N modules for launch into multi-planetary orbit. He didn't really feel like a re-modification was necessary. After all, he could simply go sixty days without combat. It wasn't like he was usually involved in any major battle unless it was an extinction-level situation anyway.

Still, regardless of how he had felt over the early modifications, he had gone through with it after their continued prodding had grown too much of an annoyance for him to handle. For the first time since building the prosthesis became necessary, he performed a complete downgrade of his entire body. Despite only being conscious for a few seconds, he felt more relaxed. There was less strain with this system and he could already feel the external nano-dermis settling on his greyinite-durasteel alloy frame. This was much better, much more reliable. He liked it. With his communications array disabled and his lab soundproof and locked down tight, he was able to relax and enjoy...

"So, are you gonna get up or what?"

...the silence.

"Come on, Kelly. I know you're awake. I can see it."

It never lasted for long, did it? Just like the drugs...

And of course he would be the one to do disturb the peace...

"Come on, buddy. It's important. I really need your help."

Craig frowned internally at the blunt statement of inadequacy. It was unusual coming from someone who was usually so self-reliant.

'Needs my help?' Despite his annoyance, Craig focused his aural sensors and turned towards the direction of the voice before he even bothered to raise his eyelids. Golden-black auto-irises constricted as he shot an annoyed glare at Evron's pale face. The face in question was stretched out into a wide grin, the body it was attached to simply floating horizontally by Craig's side. "Hey there, Kells. How was your nap? Any bad dreams?"

Craig sat up slowly, the floating operating table he was resting on molding to his spine and forming a chair beneath him. He frowned as Evron copied his movements, sitting up on thin air. "I'm in the middle of a nightmare right now with a creepy albino in my room."

Evron chuckled through his teeth, smiling at the jab. "Ooh, that one actually stung. It's not like I haven't heard an albino joke...how many is it now? Fifty times? Whatever, count any electric sheep?"

"Oh my sides, hahahaha...my durasteel and carbadium sides, the laughter just won't stop, all hail the king of humor, Evron Grey, first of his name." Craig rolled his eyes, the action making the photo-receptors actually rotate. "Besides, I don't dream anymore. I thought I told you this. I'm-"

"Yeah, yeah, cyborg, self-modified, don't sleep, don't dream. I get it," Evron interrupted with a raised hand.

Craig let out a long sigh, his powerful lungs releasing enough air that it created a breeze; not that it so much as ruffled his friend's hair one bit. "Why are you in my lab, Ev?"

Evron tilted his head in a faked display of confusion. "Your lab? Why is it 'your lab?' If anything, it's my lab. Don't I technically own the company?"

Craig turned to him, uncrossed his arms and stretched them upwards, twisting his artificial muscles. The slight whir of his muscles was audible to his ears and by the slight tilt of his eyebrow, Evron's as well. "Don't you technically own the planet?"

"That I do. As High Councillor of Titanwatch, I am ruler of Earth and all it's colonies," Evron replied, puffing his chest out playfully.

Sitting up, Craig rolled his eyes again, letting Evron know just what he thought of his jokes. "What can this simple robot do for his lord and master, then?"

"I...I just wanted to talk." There was an odd hitch in Evron's tone as the constant shine around Evron's white hair dulled slightly before going back to normal. While the verbal stumble was noticeable, the shift in vocal patterns and dimming in aureole was too sudden for any human eyes to see and most superhuman eyes would have struggled to even notice it. Fortunately for Craig, his were neither.

'Odd...?' The photoreceptors in question widened slightly to let in more light, tracking the odd wane of his perpetual halo while his aural sensors kept track of his tone. "So, what do you need me to build or do? I have to get back to work on the ODIN modules."

Blinking, Evron tilted his head. "What? I can't show up and visit my friend without there being a reason?"

Craig's eyelids drooped and he shot his friend a look that told him exactly what he thought of that statement. "Seriously," he drawled, "what is it?"

Evron said nothing, simply staring at his friend.

"Ev, what's the problem?" Craig took a demanding tone as Evron continued to stare at him. Crossing his arms, he scowled and narrowed his eyes as his friend continued his silence. He didn't have all day to waste, after all. "I have work to do. Hurry up and spit it out."

Ev continued to stare for a few more seconds before his expression shifted into a small grimace that could be called a smile and he looked away, focusing his gaze on the ground. Craig sat up a bit straighter as he saw it. He knew that smile. Good things were not associated with that smile. "Ev, seriously, talk. I can help. What is it?"

Evron looked up and as Craig met his eyes, he saw them.

Those same eyes...

Scarlet irises with black completely replacing the white of the sclera.

Fear rushed through the part of his mind that was still human as he heard himself whisper the name that had plunged the world into World War III. "Deus..."

He leapt off the chair-like operating table and threw it at the monster standing in front of him. It was a pointless attempt that barely served as a distraction. Several hundred pounds of metal simply hung in the air, held aloft by telekinesis before it was tossed away hitting a far wall with the distinct sound of metal striking metal.

Red and black eyes simply stared back at him passively. "Craig, relax."

"You're supposed to be gone," he intoned, voice taking an oddly synthetic tone. The cyborg thrust both arms in front of himself and his wrists locked together and unfolded, exposing an array of missiles, lasers and plasma weapons that could put an armory to shame. His back and shoulders unfolded, exposing even more of the same."How long have you been back, Deus?"

"I haven't left." Evron smirked but didn't move from his position. "It's still me, Craig."

'No. It couldn't...' Craig bit back his shock and prepared himself, sending as much power as he could to his weaponry. There was a loud, high-pitched whine as the central weapon in his configuration began to power up, creating a golden glow. Inside, the cyborg was screaming at the irony of the situation. The moment he finishes removing his heavy weaponry, he finds himself in a situation where it's sorely needed. "So, you've just been faking this entire time," Craig responded bitterly, almost hissing out the sentence. "Did Ev ever come back for a second or was that just another one of your tricks?"

"No, idiot! I'm still Ev, see?" Evron gestured to his eyes and as quickly as it had appeared, the red disappeared, exposing the blue that Craig was comfortable with.

Craig didn't move, his glare remaining as hard as the metal his skull was made from. "That proves nothing."

The white haired teen let out a sigh and shook his head. "Do you really think you guys could go a whole three years without noticing that I wasn't myself? Deus isn't that good at deceit, come on."

"Talking about yourself in the third person is not going to dissuade me, you psycho. Besides, you're a fuckin' Grey. Deceit and manipulation runs in the family, much like being a goddamn sociopath." Targeting reticles were firmly centered on his forehead and heart, designed to distract the lunatic long enough for him to alert everyone else.

'Never again,' Craig thought to himself. With a thought, he let loose the weapons and the lab was consumed in fire and sound.

Evron sighed to himself, simply absorbing the force of the energies Craig launched at him. 'Really,' he thought to himself, 'Is he trying to turn his lab into a crater?'

The barrage of Ziridite-powered laser and plasma didn't do much to faze him and for a moment, he wondered if he should yawn. He brushed the idea away rather quickly, all too aware that the action would only intensify his friend's fears. After nearly a minute of constant blasting, Craig finally let up with the seemingly endless display of fire power he possessed. Evron raised an eyebrow. "So, we done?"

Craig nodded slowly. "Yes, all of that was just a test anyway."

"And?" Evron gestured for him to continue.

The weapons and machinery destabilized into the nano-machines that made them up and reinserted themselves back inside him in seconds, taking slightly longer than they did to materialize. As soon as the last of the weaponry disappeared, Craig continued. "Well, I've compiled all the data. There was a distinct lack of insane laughter as we spoke and you ventured no attempt at retaliation even after nearly a minute of constant attack on my part. If you truly were Deus, I'd already be in pieces before I made a move. You took the effort to absorb my weapons, knowing that I'd rather my lab not be ruined. From the gathered data, all signs point to you being who you said you are."

The pout on Evron's face wouldn't have fooled a single soul. "What, that I'm still your good old buddy Ev? I told you that, didn't I?"

Craig smirked at his friend's hurt tone. "You may have been confused as to your own identity."

"I feel so much better knowing that you know that I know that you know I'm myself," Evron replied. "Really, it brings my heart an indescribable amount of joy."

Ignoring his sarcastic tone, Craig stepped forward. "If your intention was not to cause me to experience a panic attack; which I wasn't sure I could still experience, thank you for that by the way..."

"You're welcome."

"I have to ask, Ev, why mention Deus's name at all?"

Evron's lips turned downwards into a small frown and as his smile disappeared, he noticed Craig stiffen. Evron crossed his arms and began. "I've been getting angry recently, Craig. Very angry. NOT," Evron held up a hand to stop Craig who himself was about to interrupt, "I repeat, NOT the way I usually do."

Craig frowned as well. "How so?"

"Well, it's like...the anger's less...less?" Evron shook his head. "It's less impulsive, to start with. Less minor human annoyance and more...murderous rage."

Craig's grimace increased. "Go on."

"I've also noticed that, well...my eyes have been changing, too." At Craig's inquisitive glance, he elaborated. "I shapeshifted my eyes before to Deus's own before."

Without any movement on either of their parts, a holographic interface appeared between them, displaying Evron's face, particularly his eyes, in several pictures. Evron didn't even raise an eyebrow. These were for his benefit. After all, Craig already had all this information taking up space in his systems.

Gesturing to the screen, Craig began to speak, taking a tone that Evron knew well as his 'insufferable genius mode.' "As you see here, I'm well aware of the changes in coloration regarding your iris and sclera. Whenever you get angry or even slightly worked up, I'm reminded of that and your increasing pyromania. Still, your tendency to change your color scheme when it comes to you eyes and your...hair," Evron noticed Craig's eyes glance upwards at his head, probably imagining either black, blonde or a single skunk stripe in place of his snowy locks, " has lead me to ignore most of these situations. Considering that even your aura and the energy you control often changed to a red hue depending on who ate the last hotdog, I'm inclined to believe that you're simply seeing a problem where there is none."

Evron wasn't done yet. "But..."

Ignoring Evron's attempt to speak, Craig kept going. "Despite how you might feel, this is all well documented. What I have trouble processing is why you're behaving as if a simple change in coloration is something unprecedented. You get angry, your eyes go red. That's normal," replied Craig. After a moment of thought, he added,"Normal for you, anyway."

"Not like this!" Evron barked. He was running out of patience with this conversation and patience was something he already struggled with. He was the High Councillor for a reason! "Not like they usually do, Craig! The black in my eyes wasn't there before!"

"Incorrect." The cyborg shook his head. "I understand that your conclusion is drawn from faulty data but I doubt it would have been too hard for you to look up any of the medical files both I and Anton have regarding your physical state. Disregarding any episode concerning Deus, you have displayed black sclera before on repeated occasions. Excessive use of power-granting drugs without a base; because and I quote, "I can handle it", caused you to develop those black sclera every single time you Redlined in the past. It's not unlikely that this is simply an unseen side-effect rearing it's head."

Evron paused to think, rubbing his chin as he did so. "Really? I guess I never looked in a mirror when I was like that."

"You should have. Maybe if you had, I wouldn't have to waste time explaining to you how your own body works."

Narrowing his eyes at his friend's condescending tone, Evron decided to move on to the next point. "Look, it's not just that." Evron raised both hands to eye level, firmly in front of his face. "Watch this."

Craig's eyes, ever watchful, darted from his eyes to his hands.

Evron closed his eyes and let out a single breath. In an instant, blue lightning curled around Evron's left arm, forming into a perfect sphere of ball lightning above his palm. Around his right arm, blue tongues of flame licked around his fingers and extended upwards like a torch. Despite the fact that he had two dangerous forms of energy racing up and down his wrists, they were actually cool to the touch. Well, his touch, anyway. On nearly anyone else, it'd burn them to a crisp withing seconds.

"Yes? What is your little light show supposed to show me? Other than the fact you still have an obsession with the color blue?" To Evron's annoyance, Craig was still speaking to him in that same tone. He was the boss here. That was his tone! Instead of retorting, however, Evron tried his best to focus on what he was trying to do, even though his friend was doing his best to distract him.

"Are you going to just stand there for the next century? I have an orbital defense module that needs to be upgraded by the end of this week."

"I. AM. ALMOST. DONE," Evron growled through gritted teeth.

"Look, as High Councillor, you might be able to spend the whole day in bed with your princess but I have actual work to do. So, you mind hurrying this up?"

Evron bit back a growl as Craig continued to snark. He needed to get angry for this to work. Doing that was already hard enough with the near-constant smile he was stuck with. Having Craig annoy him was...not...helping.

Utilizing the annoyance he already felt from Craig, he pushed deep until he found what he was looking for. A vicious grin sprang into place on his face as he felt the coolness in his palms change to a distinct feeling of heat. He heard Craig gasp again and he opened his once again red-black eyes. The lightning and fire that sat in his palms were no longer a cool blue. Instead, they were an ominous red and black, much like his eyes.

He raised his glance to Craig, who was still staring intently at the changed color of the energy he was controlling, eyes wide as he processed what this meant. Craig slowly raised his gaze to meet his. Despite the fact that he was mostly synthetic, the fear in his eyes was all too human. "So...you weren't joking, then?"

Ceasing the flow of energy to his hands, Evron let the red flames and sparks die away before answering. "No, I wasn't. Deus isn't dead, Craig."

For once, Craig had nothing to say and he simply tried to analyze the situation. When he spoke again, the condescension was absent from his tone. "You're the boss here. How do you propose we handle this?"

"I thought you had plans to deal with everything," Evron replied with a raised eyebrow.

Craig's face twisted into a grimace. "All of those went out the window when you started blowing up planet sized targets like it was the simplest thing in the world. Force isn't the best strategy with you, after all. So, how do we handle this? We obviously can't tell the team."

Evron nodded. If they informed the rest of Titanwatch, everyone from the Gammas up would start picking sides and every superhuman below them in the organization would follow blindly with whoever they chose. It would be World War IV. They needed a plan to stop that type of bloodshed from happening. But how? What could they possibly do to stop a war before it started?

In a moment of clarity, Evron came to a sudden realization. Raising his gaze to meet his friend's, Evron flashed him a vicious grin. "Craig?"

"Yes?"

"How many contingencies do we have for unwanted visitors?" After a second, he added, "Non-violent contingencies, I mean."

The cyborg took a moment to process the statement. "Four hundred and fifty-eight exactly."

If it was possible, Evron's vicious grin grew even wider.

"Good, then we have a plan."

 **EARTH BET**

 **PRESENT DAY**

 **LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA**

Change is a universal constant.

A contradictory statement? Yes. It still didn't change the fact of the matter.

Things change all the time.

Los Angeles was different in this world, not that he expected it not to be.

The people were different here. He noticed no body mods, no implants, not even a single neo-graft on a single person's skin. Not a single hover-car flew around the skyline, no skimbikes weaving through traffic, no lev-scooters buzzing around the roads and the comforting presence of the Grey Industries police droids were absent from the streets. The environment was different as well. Lumbering vehicles spewed noxious chemicals into the air; which itself was more polluted than he had ever known it to be, and roared as their primitive and inefficient engines burned hydrocarbons to continue functioning. Frankly, it was a mess.

What did he expect? The passing of time changed things, whether the flow was backwards or forwards. Shifting realities only served to increase the differences.

Still, this version of LA wasn't hopeless...well, not completely hopeless. Even with those changes, some things managed to stay the same.

Teleporting from the Veder home to Brentwood was the first part of his trip. Over the next two hours, he went through the wealthier districts of the city, noting that most of the houses hadn't really changed even in his time. Most were the same even in 2328; opulent mansions surrounded by palm trees. The homes of the wealthy in his time were sprawling pieces of art compared to the space-saving pods or cubic designs that were popular with omnifabricated construction. If you had money, you didn't go for synthesized living space That was for the plebs.

Crime wasn't much different, albeit somewhat less dangerous to the average civilian. The few car thefts and muggings he noticed along his path were handled subtly with telekinesis without him even having to pause his stride.

He made his way through Brentwood, the Hills; both Hombly and Beverly, bought a stim-caf drink in West Hollywood- 'Coffee...not stim-caf. Coffee. Got to remember that.' - and kept on walking around the city until he finally made his way to Downtown.

Despite their looks, the people weren't all that different. Their clothes may have been simple cloth and fiber but they still wore about as much. They still rushed by, completely focused on their own lives and where they were headed. As he walked through the city, Judging from the appearances and the many instances of fake blondes he had seen, Los Angeles was still all about power and appearances. Then again, people had said the same thing about him. He couldn't blame them for that, though. They weren't entirely wrong.

His tower was the same, still a shining beacon over the city streets. It might have been uglier, less shiny and much shorter than he liked but it was still recognizable as his. Although, in his opinion, 'The Grey Spire' was a much better name than 'LA PRT HQ' but he might have been a little biased. He couldn't help it, though. This city brought back memories. Playing around in the tower with Cesar and Anton, eating cookies Rosa baked for him, messing with the bodyguards and securannoying every single butler and maid the only way a toddler with super speed could.

Still, though, there was one more thing that didn't seem to change. It still stood in front of the tower like it always did, every single day he was in LA.

Cenzo's Dogs, the best hotdogs in the 24th century. While the sign on the cart said 'Vito's Wiener's,- "Now, isn't that an unfortunate name?"- in his mind, the hotdog cart would forever remain Cenzo's Dogs.

Walking past the tide of bodies rushing to an audition or to the beach or to shop or whatever the normals did in LA, Evron stopped in front of the cart and glanced at the man behind it. He was large and hefty, in contrast to the skinny, skin-grafted Vincenzo that he knew, but the surly look on his face and the cigarette in his mouth were all too familiar.

As he stepped forward, the man gave him a once-over, a confused expression appearing on his face. Evron didn't even need to look to know that the man's eyes had trailed over his hair, glanced at his skin before pausing to goggle at his clothes.

Maybe he wasn't as inconspicuous as he had hoped.

While he didn't mind the looks women gave him when he went around with only an open-chested sleeveless hoodie, he felt that his Titanwatch costume would be a bit too much for simple sightseeing. So, before his feet ever touched the ground, he had shifted his clothing, turning his costume into a business suit that was the perfect combination involving skin-hugging nanofabric, a cowl, a cloak, a cravat(for some odd reason) and various belts, buttons and fasteners that served no reasonable purpose. While it wasn't ideal, it had seemed like the best option amid a selection of more esoteric garments that he had stored in his costume's memory. However, after receiving more than a few odd glances, he was beginning to doubt it's effectiveness. More than a few women had their eyes firmly glued to him but he had assumed that their attention was more because of his looks than his clothes. The California sun did make his hair shine in a certain way.

"Let me get a Danger Dog. In fact, make that two; deep fried," Evron spoke up, hoping to distract the man from his outfit.

Thankfully, announcing his order was enough to distract the man from staring at him. Rubbing his nose with the back of his palm, the hefty man replied, "That'll be ten bucks."

Evron didn't raise an eyebrow at the price. Then again, he wasn't the type to buy things for himself so the value of things wasn't where his knowledge base lied. Sticking a hand in an empty pocket, he rummaged around in the suit jacket for a moment to give the appearance that he was actually doing something. While he pretended to grope around, he simply opened a subspace rift inside his pocket and pulled a few random bills out. He hadn't really paid any attention to how much he had grabbed but after he had given the cute barista a tip, he knew that the smallest denomination he had was a twenty. 'So...at least a few hundred, then?' Mentally shrugging, Evron stretched his arm out.

Evron held the wad of cash to the man, who just stared at the collection of bills with a raised eyebrow and a wary glance. As Vito took hold of the cash, he unfolded it and gasped, his cigarette falling from his lips. His eyes flicked up to Evron with his mouth still open in shock and Evron simply smiled back. "Keep the change."

"A-a...as a tip?", the man spluttered.

"Yeah, why not?"

"For real, kid? This is-"

"Don't care. Keep it. Tip yourself, whatever."

"But this is..." The man held the wad up to his face. "A lot, kid."

"Don't care." Evron's eyelids drooped as his patience began to run thin. Here he was being his usual nice, generous self and this guy just wouldn't shut up. It was just money. Some people... "Or would you rather give me change?"

"Nononono. It's all right. 'm all good." The man rushed through the preparation of his order quickly enough that it was actually somewhat amusing. In less than a minute, he was done and the now grinning wiener salesman gestured to the thick paper tray in front of him, causing Evron to grin as his sensitive nose took in the aroma of the hotdogs.

He glanced up at the man and made a jerking motion with his hand that could be considered a wave. "Thanks...Vito."

"No problem", Vito responded with a nod, "and thank you for the tip, kid."

"Yeah, have fun with that." Evron picked up the tray and walked away from the cart, fully aware that Vito was still counting the wad of cash he had left behind. He never understood the big deal people had with money. Even Greg had acted like a simple thousand dollars was some massive amount. Twice that had sent this guy into a smiling frenzy. 'Seriously..' It was a simple transfer of funds. Maybe the coins and paper people still used in this time period made it more important than the digital currency he was used to but still...it wasn't that serious. Shaking his head at the ridiculous behavior, he raised a topping-laden bun to his mouth and prepared to bite into it...only to pause.

'Wait a minute...'

Someone was watching him...again. It was a familiar sensation; one that he had first noticed when he had entered Hombly Hills and stopped to look at the homes. He hadn't paid it much attention as many eyes had been on him. That same odd feeling had still been there when he had entered West Hollywood but with all the people crowded around him, he hadn't felt it important to actually investigate. By the time he had stopped to get a drink, the sensation had dissapeared so he hadn't paid it any mind. Now it was back again and the odd feeling he had noticed with it had come along as well.

He didn't need to turn to notice his pursuer. The odd feeling that they gave off was as big of a tell regarding their location as anything else.

'To the left...Across the street...'

He looked up and there she was.

She was rather far away, sitting casually at an open air table located on the other end of the street. The wine glass in her hand was half-full, implying that she had just recently been served. Her hair was dark and long enough that it fell past her shoulders and her dark skin was smooth and unblemished, unnaturally so. The pantsuit she was wearing was dark as well, a pattern maybe, but it seemed to contrast well with her skin tone. She would have been exceptionally beautiful and to most people's eyes, she was probably gorgeous, but the false eye and the massive amount of makeup she wore immediately soured any attraction he might have hypothetically felt towards her. The woman appeared casual, far too much so to simply be some random stalker or some sexually starved older woman that happened to be attracted to him. She knew how to tail people and rather well, if her nonchalant appearance was any sign of her skill.

With time moving at less than a crawl to him, he walked across the street and stopped once he was in front of the woman, close enough to touch her. For a second, he considered thinking about what he should say but dismissed the thought. He worked better on the fly and he'd rather not spend time thinking about a conversation if he had the choice. He was a Grey after all, and with that heritage came a natural mastery of all things verbal and manipulative. He didn't need to focus on what he'd have to say to her. No, what he'd rather focus on was the thing that had actually been the main reason he actually payed the woman any notice. The energy field around her...in her...just on her general person, was very interesting. It was firm, rigid, almost unyielding to his senses and it gave off a feeling of familiarity to him.

He raised a finger and placed it on the woman's forehead for a few seconds, hoping the contact would help him understand what he found so familiar about her. He pulled his hand away and looked at his finger. 'Odd...' He wasn't getting much from her. Only a slight sense of feedback when he touched her. Why would he receive any hints of feedback unless...

He fell back into the seat opposite hers, a large smile spreading across his face. That was it. Time shenanigans...Her power was related to time in some way. He looked at the woman again, really looking at her this time. Sparks of electricity ran across his eyelids as he used one of his more subtle forms of his electrokinesis, allowing him vision that allowed him to see past certain barriers. He ignored the makeup, the scar and the fake eye, all in his attempt to really see who she was underneath all that.

Then he saw it.

That's it! No wonder he was getting feedback from her.

'She's like me,' Evron thought, his smile shifting from a grin to a coy smirk. 'Well, not exactly like me but close enough.' That much was true. The young woman, for that was what she was underneath all the makeup, was rather similar to him in one sense. She was locked in time like he was, although much more tightly than he could ever stomach. 'Interesting. An immortal one eyed stalker. Wonder why she's been stalking me. Maybe she's an assassin here to hunt me down for this world's secret shadowy organization. One immortal to kill another. How interesting...'

The smile that quickly sprang up on his face showed exactly what he thought of such a thing. The idea of an actual threat was laughable right now. Sure, he wasn't in top condition but he was good enough that any attack on his person would be avoided with ease. He doubted that she was actually an assassin, though. The energy field surrounding her was rigid, so much so that it wasn't at all conducive to any projection away from herself, meaning she had no energy attacks to utilize. A glance around with his electromagnetic perception told him that she had no weapons on or around her person either, not even in her little briefcase. So not an assassin, then. Just a spy.

Evron tilted his head slightly as he mulled over this new information. It wasn't what he was hoping for but he could manage. Eh, spies could still be fun, right. Action, espionage, licenses to kill.

He grinned to himself. "Let's see your secret identity, spy lady." He activated his electromagnetic perception, once again allowing the sparks to dance behind his eyes and he gave her a quick once-over. "No ID or wallet on you, huh." While she might not have kept any identifiers on her person, her briefcase was where he found his target. "Rebecca Costa-Brown?" He paused, the sparks fading away as he raised a hand to his chin. "Chief Director of the PRT? Oh, fuck it."

She wasn't even a spy. She was just a regular government agent. Now, that was less fun.

He clicked his tongue once, shaking his head. There he went again, getting his own hopes up. An assassin might have been some real fun, dodging attacks in the crowded city streets, saving pedestrians at the last second, giving him a chance to let off some steam. A spy would have been less so but still enjoyable, hunting him down across the country, car chases, bombs exploding behind him...

Now there was no chance of that at all. She probably just wanted to offer him a job. How boring.

His interest in the one-eyed young woman beginning to fade, Evron sat back in the metal chair and placed one leg over the other, the way he had been taught growing up. "Might as well make myself presentable," he muttered. Sitting up correctly, he adjusted his face and gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep from smiling. "Now's a good a time as ever to do this." Evron loosened his grip on his super-speed and his perception of time began to speed up once more.

Sitting across from Costa-Brown, he had a perfect vantage point to watch her. As such, he was able to see her eyes widen in shock and the sudden intake of breath she gave as, from her perspective, he suddenly appeared in front of her. He was actually surprised that his surprising appearance only managed to garner that much of a reaction from her.

His surprise turned to annoyance when she flashed him a closed-mouth smile and simply said, "Hello, Mr. Grey."

"You know of me?" He spoke through his teeth, making sure he kept them gritted. This was a serious situation and he knew that he couldn't afford to smile. The second he did, he would stop taking this seriously.

There was silence between the two of them and during that silence, Evron got to feel what it was like to be the stoic party in a conversation as the other person smiled pleasantly at you.

He didn't like it.

She smiled at him again, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "Yes, we at the PRT have a rather expansive information network. We've actually compiled a good deal of information on you since you first triggered. Canberra only encouraged us to seek you out. Your showing against the Simurgh was rather impressive, by the way."

"Thank you. I actually don't remember much of it. Wasn't really myself, you see." Redlining left him a bit out-of-sorts, honestly. That whole day was still a bit of a blur.

Costa-Brown raised an eyebrow in mock interest. She knew something. How...how could she know anything about him? "Oh, may I ask why?" Her voice was almost mocking with the sincerity that she managed to imbue into only five words. He couldn't even find her tell. Goddamn it, if he didn't know that she was definitely lying, she'd have him wrapped around her finger by now. She would have been right at home among his family.

"There was no problem, really," he replied, voice level. "nothing that I couldn't handle."

He watched as she leaned closer to him, that same possibly-fake smile on her face. "Well, that's excellent."

"Isn't it, though?"

She paused at his interjection and for a few nanoseconds, Evron watched as her face twitched in a micro-expression of annoyance. 'So, she does have tells.'

Costa-Brown smiled again, letting out a small laugh that was as sincere as it was artificial. "What I'm here today for, Mr. Grey, is to give you a very special offer. We at the Protectorate have a certain opportunity we'd lik-"

"Hold that thought," Evron raised a finger in the air, interrupting the Head Director as she prepared to go into her speech.

To her credit, her only sign that she was in any way surprised was the quick blink she gave at the sudden interruption.

He snapped his fingers loudly, summoning a waiter to their table within seconds. Before the young man could speak, Evron had already made his order. "Just give me a bottle of whatever she's having," he stated, pointing to the wine glass to the side of Ms. Costa Brown, "and a glass, please."

"I'm sorry," Costa-Brown began, "I don't think-"

Evron turned to her, face still stoic. "Just one moment." Glancing at the waiter once more, he repeated his order.

The waiter gave him a look and judging by the confused expression on the man's face, he obviously didn't think Evron was old enough to drink. Before the man could get a word in, Evron gave the man a sharp glare, shocking him, and spoke up again. "I'd prefer it if you did that as soon as possible."

Jerking to attention, the man nodded and quickly went inside on his assigned errand, ignoring the calls of other patrons.

Tilting his head, Evron stared back at the woman across from him, relishing in her confused expression. "So, did your information network tell you anything about that?"

The confusion vanished and her expression hardened until it was comparable to a diamond, losing whatever kindness she may have had. "You just Mastered him." It wasn't a question as much as it was a statement of fact.

instead of answering, he let a small smirk appear on his face. His reply wasn't verbal but it made his point just as well.

She leaned into him, encroaching on his personal space somewhat. "Why?" Her tone was low but he didn't detect any anger in the question.

He allowed his smile to widen, allowing Costa-Brown to actually see the rows of inhumanly sharp and white teeth he held in his mouth. "What's there to say? I like the taste of wine."

She scowled at his answer, almost as if she had been expecting something much different. "Forgive me if I find that somewhat hard to believe."

"How old do you think I am, Ms. Brown?"

The woman didn't answer, choosing to stare him down.

Evron waved at the air, as if brushing something away. "You know what you're right, don't answer that. How long did you say that information network of yours has been aware of me again? You already mentioned this, right, Ms. Brown. No harm in repeating yourself."

Her face was little more than a mask but he didn't see any sign of anger there. When she responded, it was in a tone so devoid of emotion and inflection that it was somewhat surprising. "I said that we had been aware of you since the moment of your trigger."

"Yeah, that's a dead lie."

This time, she actually reacted. "And why do you believe so, Mr. Grey?" Raising an eyebrow, she waited for him to continue.

"I got my powers around twenty years ago, Ms. Brown."

Her eyes narrowed as he finished the sentence. "Twenty years?" She gave him a calculating glance as if searching for something. Shaking her head, she looked back at him. "Twenty years, Mr. Grey?"

Evron looked away from her to check his fingernails, already aware that they were in perfect shape. He had already won their little battle here by knocking her off her game. There was little more that she could say that could change that. "I doubt you guys were really on top of the game twenty years ago, am I wrong?"

Rebecca Costa Brown didn't reply for a few seconds, just in time for the waiter to return and pour Evron a drink. Thanking the man with a tip, he turned back to Costa-Brown, wine glass in hand.

After a few more moments of silence, the woman gave a wry chuckle and affixed him with a powerful glare. "I admit, you actually had me for me a moment there, Mr. Grey. While you may be right in the fact that we don't have the most information regarding your background, we know enough about your present to determine that your actions in Brockton Bay combined with what I witnessed here today are enough to put you into the Birdcage."

Evron smiled back at her in a simpering manner, a little giggle spilling out as he spoke. "My actions in Brockton? You mean Greg? Yeah, I hooked him up with a little juice. That actually a crime around here?"

Costa-Brown's eyes shrunk to little more than slits at the word 'juice.' "You'll find that it is. Experimentation on civilians with a parahuman ability is a federal crime."

Evron's face took on an expression that could only be described as manic glee and he ran a hand through his thick head of snowy hair before stopping to stare at the federal agent in front of him. "Is it now?"

She narrowed her eyes and smiled back at him, confidence clear in her body language. "It is."

Evron raised his glass off the table and swung both feet onto the surface. "Tell me, Becky", he giggled, "why are you down here in LA anyway? Isn't your office in DC?"

"That's really none of your business, Mr. Grey, but if you must know, I had an important meeting."

Widening his eyes in mock surprise, Evron continued. "So, after all your important meetings in California, you just walk around the most affluent neighborhoods in LA?"

Costa-Brown frowned. "I don't feel the need to answer that."

Evron shrugged. "Fine, fine. Just one more question. It's about the law. You're a federal agent so you should know the answer, right?"

She simply looked at him.

"I'll take that as a yes," Evron replied with a chuckle. "So...Becky, isn't it a crime for a parahuman to be in the PRT? I mean, that's at least perjury, right?"

To normal eyes, Costa-Brown hadn't reacted a bit to his statement. To his eyes, however, the woman had frozen for half a second while her eyes widened. In less than a second, she was the same as before. To be honest, it was really impressive how good she was at controlling her own reactions. That was some skillful self-control. "What are you trying to say, Mr. Grey? You are aware that such statements against a federal agent would be considered slander?"

Grinning at her weak defense, Evron replied. "Yes, but that's a civil offense not a criminal one, isn't it? Worst comes to worst, the accuser would have to pay up in court but there would have to be an investigation into the claims first, right?"

Another terse silence passed between the two until Rebecca finally broke it with a single word.

"How?"

"Simple." Evron smiled even wider, flashing her a shark-like grin. "I have a lot of powers and way too much time on my hands. Besides, you kinda shot yourself in the foot with all that BS about having info on me. I didn't exist on Earth Bet until about a month ago when I fell on top of a bird lady with a really bad attitude."

Her eyes widened at the mention of his first appearance and she opened her mouth to say something only for Evron to interrupt again.

"Not now, you can have your revelation later. Now that we're on the same page, I'm gonna have to ask you one question. Are you interested in saving this planet? Cause I don't know if you're aware but you've got like two decades left before you're looking at a full-on End of Days type situation." Leaning in close, he winked at the woman. "So, interested?"

Evron would later remark that he wasn't sure what he expected Costa-Brown's response to be but raucous laughter was definitely not in the top ten.

 **Author's Note**

 **Hey, bros and broettes. I've been gone for about a month and I'm sorry about that. I remember the days when I was releasing new chapters every 2-3 days. Ah, 2015, how I miss ye already.**

 **Anyway, I've been pretty busy working on my tone skills. Bakuda and Terry are loose in the Bay. Fugly Bob's is a crater now and Sparky went boom. Taylor faced off Bakuda as in canon, so she's kind of out of it for now, so...FUN TIMES AHEAD FOR EVERYBODY! AS YOU'VE SEEN HERE, Ev's about to make nice with Cauldron and won't that be delightful?**

 **Armsmaster's heading out into the city with S.I.A., Dragon's in a mood and Greg is running around doing what he thinks superheroes do. Someone should really train him in stuff other than how to take a hit, huh? Wonder how the Simurgh and the Slaughterhouse will feel about Greg and Ev's plans to save the world once they really get some motion going. You'll find out!**

 **WHEN? I dunno...maybe a month or two.**

 **So, In conclusion...** **REVIEWS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!** **(AND REWARDED WITH COOKIES)**

 **Also,** **BETAS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME AS WELL!** **(AND REWARDED WITH EXTENSIVE BACKGROUND INFO AS WELL AS COOKIES)**


	44. Complications 2-13

Complications 2.13

"Tinker frag incoming! Move! Move! Move!"

The call came out just in time. Nearly a dozen PRT officers immediately leapt from their less secure positions, taking cover behind the closest PRT van.

A powerful explosion rocked the van, nearly causing the beast of a personnel carrier to topple over with the force of the blast.

"Spillover! Get back!"

The PRT officers using the van as cover heeded the warning, jumping back as molten slag splashed over the roof of the vehicle, hitting the space they had previously occupied. Shouts of shock and fear rose from more than a few PRT as the slag, already an odd green color, dripped over the side of the vehicle onto the street, melting both metal and asphalt with ease.

"Oh my god, it's on me! It's on me. It's on meeee!" One officer screamed in pain as he tried to shake off a few drops of the superheated material that had managed to land on his arm. He sighed in relief as he succeeded, barely, in removing it before it melted past his armor. Luck might have been the only thing saving him from a painful end.

"Return fire!"

A few of the PRT poked their heads out and resumed fire, trying their hardest to take down one of the ever-advancing groups of ABB gang members. The haze of tear gas surrounded most of the ABB, doing little more than clogging their line of sight. Simply using the gas had been worthless against the Asian street gang. Most of the enemy had worn goggles and those that didn't had been smart enough to wear wet bandanas around their mouth and nose.

"Aargh!" One officer fell back, cradling a knee as blood flowed from the open wound.

"Get her the hell out of here!" Another officer managed to assist the wounded soldier, dragging her firmly behind cover.

Gunfire flew from both sides, less than lethal rounds flying past actual bullets. Round after round of rubber and plastic bullets ripped through the air towards the mob while stray shots from the enemy peppered the environment, hitting a few of the PRT through sheer chance. The ABB managed to provide cover for their own gunners, using a garbage truck and a few other cars to keep themselves safe from most return fire.

 _"Delta-2, sit-rep!"_

An officer wearing armor that was a bit heavier than most others screamed a response into his in-helmet radio. "Corporal Daly reporting! Under heavy fire, tear gas isn't working! We're pinned down! Tinker grenades ripping us a new one here! ABB throwing them like candy! Containment foam resupply tank is toast! We're firing impact rounds out here!"

Daly's eyes locked on to a massive wall of hardened foam tall enough to be the height of a brownstone and gritted his teeth. 'A huge fuckin' waste.'

The containment foam supply tank had been actually been the first vehicle taken down by the ABB. One of their Tinker bombs had released some sort of acid that melted through the plating of the carrier, and reacted with the foam. Even though they had lost the entire supply of the Tinker foam, at least the squad had gotten out in time before the capsules had exploded.

" _Corporal Daly, where are your XO and CO?"_

"HQ! CO and XO are down! Clipped by a heavy explosive! Ripped them apart! Got them on a rack in the meat wagon!"

The corporal cast a glance at one of the vans down the street, well aware that his Commander and Executive Officer were inside being tended to.

The XO, a young man named Bradford, had been clipped with one of the thrown Tinker bombs when he pushed a PFC out of the way. His riot shield had taken the brunt of the relatively small blast, but a piece had ripped its way through the ballistic shielding, ripping into his stomach and nearly tearing his arm off at the elbow. The CO, a woman known simply as Bailey, fared somewhat better, shielding a young civilian from some type of plasma bomb. The very air had heated to the point that it had rippled and burned through exposed skin. Bailey was incredibly lucky, as most of her burns were only skin deep, but the flesh and muscle on her leg had been vaporized, exposing the bone completely. In Daly's opinion, both soldiers were goners, the lady in particular. At this point, all they needed were their last rites.

 _"ETA is ten minutes. Just hold out for reinforcements."_

"Ten minutes?! What's the hold-up, HQ?! It's FUBAR over here!" The officer could barely handle his shock. Ten minutes? Ten minutes was a lifetime in live combat, especially when outgunned by superior numbers. Most of their cover had been ruined by the odd Tinker grenades the ABB had been throwing around, limiting them to a few heavy trucks they used as cover to return fire whenever possible. He grinned as he watched one of the chinks take a rubber bullet to the face, the lucky shot piercing directly through the screaming gang member's goggles. "Hooah! Nice shot, Jensen!"

The grin vanished off his face as he heard the dull thump of a containment foam launcher as soon as the ABB member fell. He was openly frowning by the time the rioter was fully encased in the rapidly-hardening gel-like substance.

"Don't waste the shit! He was already down!" Daly screamed at a younger officer. They were down to a few cartridges of foam already and he was beginning to get pissed with how liberally some of his squad was spraying what little they had left. "This ain't a goddamn party! We're runnin' low! Foam is for heavies only!"

Turning his attention back to the comm, he continued yelling. "What's the deal with our back-up, HQ?"

 _"We've got reports of riots all over Brockton! Captain's Hill and the Boardwalk are crawling with gang members! We've got capes doing their best just to keep them from getting into Downtown. Alpha, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf and Sierra and are guarding HQ and the other building. Eight minutes is all I can do."_

"You can't spare a single goddamn cape?! We're strugglin' out here!"

" _Well...good news on that front. I've got reports of one cape heading your way. A Brute, apparently. He should assist. Just hold it till he gets there!"_

"Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot, over?" Daly cast a glance over the destroyed buildings and ruined streets. Craters, fire and other, _stranger,_ identifiers marked the destruction. "The gooks got Tinker frags and they're using them!"

" _Just keep it together, Delta-2! Bravo and Charlie Team are almost there. ETA 8 minutes. HQ out."_

The officer bared his teeth, the action invisible behind his tinted visor. "Keep it together, he says! No foam! No gas! No actual goddamn bullets! Keep it together? Fuck that!"

Judging from his growl as he looked around, the PRT officer had a different idea. Turning to the officer next to him, he gave the man's shoulder a shake to draw his attention. "Mongreen! With me! Hat up! We're moving out!"

The man looked up and nodded sharply, his helmet bobbing slightly. "Yes, sir!"

The officer began to move, Mongreen steadily on his tail, when another officer called out from behind them. "Daly, Mongreen, the hell are you doing?"

The corporal known as Malloy turned to face the officer. "The fuck does it look like, Jensen? We're high speed, taking the fight to them!"

Before Jensen could retort, the two officers - Malloy Daly and Rick Mongreen - ran out from behind the cover of the van, shooting wildly at the rioters terrorizing the streets of the Trainyard.

The two were unmistakable as PRT in their dark assault gear, both carrying identical black riot rifles, heavy launcher guns on their back, as well as foam and gas canisters around their waist. Tasers, pepper spray and other pain-inducing weapons were kept in holsters around his thighs, simply waiting for their eventual use. PRT was emblazoned over the front and back of their heavy assault armor, leaving their identity unmistakable.

"Corporal Daly, we got a runner!" Mongreen raised a finger, pointing at an approaching ABB.

Running past the hail of gunfire from the rioting ABB, a lanky Asian man wearing nothing but the tattoos on his back, charged at them armed with only a bottle and a rag.

"Don't just fucking point, ya goddamn boot! You think this is a fuckin' game?" Daly growled at the rookie. "Shoot the bastard!"

"Y-yes, corporal!" Mongreen took aim and pulled the trigger in one smooth movement. The bullets flew from the muzzle and hit the naked gang member center mass. The man fell back, stumbling as the bullets slammed into him and Mongreen gave a short cheer of celebration. To Daly's chagrin, the man lurched forwards and continued running, ignoring the obvious pain the impact rounds should have caused him.

"Fuckin chink druggies!" Daly roared in anger. "Shrugging off goddamn rubber bullets like its playtime!" The corporal held a strong dislike for non-lethal rounds, considering them little more than toys for kids. How he wished he had an assault rifle or one of those fucking tinker guns so that he could perforate this fucker's insides. "Guns are for killin', damn it! Fuck all!"

"Come here, kid!" Daly placed a meaty paw on Mongreen's shoulder, dragging the smaller man behind a ruined hatchback. Taking aim, he took less than a moment to consider putting a rubber bullet in the man's forehead or his chest, before ultimately deciding on his swinging bait and tackle. "Let's make it hurt."

Daly prepared to pull the trigger, only pausing as he saw the man light the rag on the bottle, transforming the bottle into a flaming Molotov.

"Corporal," came the voice of Mongreen, "He's got an incendiary!"

"I see it, Mongreen!" Daly screamed back. The older man pulled the trigger on his rifle and the napalm-filled bottle burst open, the flames racing all over the tattooed man's naked, vulnerable form. His screams filled the air and Daly only laughed in response. "Shrug that off, ya goddamn dog-muncher! That's what you get for playin' wit' fire!"

Mongreen glanced over at his superior officer as the man kept on chuckling at the carnage. So distracted was he by the corporal's odd behavior that he almost didn't hear an odd sound from above. He glanced up and gaped. A figure was falling directly towards their position, screaming at the top of his or her lungs.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!"

This time it was Mongreen who grabbed Daly by the shoulder, throwing the older man to the ground and ducking down next to him as well.

Daly raised his head up from the asphalt and growled, his face red behind his visor. "The fuck are you doing, Mongreen? You manhandle your TC again, and I'll have-"

Daly's words died in his throat as a figure crashed into the hatchback like a meteor, flattening the vehicle and creating a small crater in the asphalt with the force of his landing.

As the dust settled, the two PRT soldiers looked up and glanced in shock at the blonde kid lying down in a crumpled heap. "Is that the kid who fought Lung? _This_ is our backup cape?" Mongreen whispered to Daly, somewhat shocked by the cape's sudden appearance. The older officer waved away the question, too busy glaring at the cape below. Mongreen couldn't believe this kid was the one that had mutilated Lung. The kid wasn't all that short or all that scrawny but he just seemed smaller than usual, somehow, especially as bruised as he looked now. Even from a few meters away, they easily heard the kid's words as he let out a muffled, "Fuck...me…"

The rest of his muttered ramblings were harder to understand.

"I sure as hell hope not!" Daly choked out a sentence in impatience. "Fuckin' stupid-ass capes!"

It was well known to more than a few that PRT Corporal Daly hated gangs with a passion.

Frankly, he considered them a waste of his precious time. He was a PRT officer, after all. He was supposed to have one job and only one job and that was taking out rogue capes. Dealing with a few gang members that had their threat level increased because they hung around a cape made his blood boil.

It was a lesser known fact that Malloy Daly hated capes. From Armsmaster to Kaiser, he hated every single fucking one. They were all pieces of shit that lorded their superiority over the normal people. Still, they had their uses.

Daly jumped forward, pointing his gun down into the crater. "Hey kid, get the fuck up and do your job!"

The cape, black shirt shredded beyond repair, stood up, and shook off the debris and dust he had accumulated from his fall. He gave himself a quick once-over, ripping off the ruined remnants of his shirt and tossing it to the side. A slight scowl was visible on his face as he did so.

Daly apparently didn't appreciate the way the kid was taking his time and made his displeasure known with another signature bellow. "Get your ass out of there, you little shit! You're wasting precious daylight, you goddamn ditz! Did that fall knock out what little brains you had left, you shit-fucking airhead?!"

"Corporal…" Mongreen winced at the verbal tirade his superior officer was throwing at the silent kid below. He was all too aware of what the kid was capable of, and the level of brutality he had inflicted on Lung. He had no desire to have that type of firepower pointed in his direction.

Luckily, the kid wasn't as violent as the rumor mill proclaimed him to be. The blonde with the odd haircut simply glanced at the loudmouth Mongreen knew as his superior and narrowed his eyes, muttering something indecipherable before leaping out of the crater and _over_ Daly and Mongreen, landing near the rioters in one smooth movement. Even as he leapt, the two officers still heard his parting words. "Thanks for the tip, old man!"

Daly growled again, trembling in barely restrained rage. "Fuckin' capes!"

Roof jumping was supposed to be easy.

On paper, at least.

It was a relatively simple thing. 'How hard could it be?' Greg had thought to himself.

In practice, it wasn't all that easy. I mean, who knew the roofs of buildings weren't all the same height? Who knew that spacing out for one second could lead to a painful several story drop? Who knew that some women didn't close their curtains when they were getting dressed? I mean, seriously? That last one really wasn't his fault.

Anyway, Greg hadn't given these things any real thought before. This information simply wasn't the type of thing that was relevant to the life of a mostly sedentary nerd. So when he had begun learning how to traverse the city, he had asked Ev for tips on how to roof jump. In retrospect, he wasn't sure why he thought the albino would be at all helpful. He had a tendency to be a bit of a dick.

True to form, the albino had simply pointed to a roof and said, "Go nuts."

Yeah, not much help.

When it came to his training, Evron had a tendency to skimp on anything that wasn't directly related to punching.

Seeing as his own trainer wasn't even going to try to teach him, Greg had taken it upon himself to learn how to traverse the rooftops of his hometown. He had actually found something that could help after a short online search, an archive consisting of the few online videos of capes who preferred to travel by roof. Surprisingly, Shadow Stalker was one of the most prominent of those local searches.

At first, he had found it rather strange that she had the most results when it came to his particular search. After giving the issue some thought, he realized it made some sense. Out of all the hero capes in Brockton, she was the only one who had no vehicle and couldn't fly. Well, there was Vista, but the blonde Ward was like ten years old or something. Parkour was Shadow Stalker's thing and from what he could see, she was really good at it.

Not too long after getting his powers, he had begun watching her videos in an attempt to learn how to move like she did. In less than a week, he began his own attempts to leap across rooftops. To his credit, he was actually able to move around town with relative ease. However, relative was the operative term in that situation. Shadow Stalker made it look too easy with the way she moved, gracefully leaping from roof to roof like some kind of dark angel. He soon found that wasn't really the case for him.

Shadow Stalker didn't have to factor in super strength or speed when she made her jumps. She didn't have to worry about overshooting a rooftop of three. She probably also never overshot several rooftops in one leap. Odds were, Shadow Stalker had never also fallen onto a car from thirty meters in the air.

All of that had just happened to him.

"...fuck...me."

His landing would probably have been considered the opposite of subtle and graceful. In any other environment, it would have been deafening to the extreme, at least when you considered the prolonged continuous screech of the metal frame and the shriek of shattered glass. As it was, the sound of rioting ABB did a rather impressive job of drowning out most of the noise.

As he laid prone on the flattened mess of metal that was once a car, Greg let out a deep sigh. "How do you mess up a landing like that?" he muttered to himself, "The ground was right there. How the hell did I miss the ground? I could have made the landing if I just jumped to the ground but no...Who was I trying to show off to?" Greg would have gladly palmed his face at that moment, so ashamed was he by his own decision.

Greg supposed he should be in more of a hurry to escape from the metal mattress his landing had created around himself. The screaming, explosions and gunfire did sound worrying enough to garner his attention.

A gruff voice yelling drew his attention and he looked up, catching sight of a PRT officer. "Hey kid, get the fuck up and do your job!"

Greg huffed and grumbled under his breath. "Aren't you guys the professionals here? Can't you see I'm kinda busy? Yeesh." Glancing down at his chest, Greg noticed that his shirt had been completely destroyed, leaving him with little more than scraps of fabric on his chest.

"Aww, that was the last one Ev made tougher for me. Fuck it, whatever…" Ripping off the remnants of the shirt, he tossed it to the side, frowning a bit as he checked his bare chest. He nodded slightly as he watched the scrapes and bruises healing before his eyes. "At least I'm fine…"

"Get your ass out of there, you little shit! You're wasting precious daylight, you goddamn ditz! Did that fall knock out what little brains you had left, you shit-fucking airhead?!" His self-examination was interrupted by the same bellowing voice once again.

'That same old guy! Can't he see I just fell? Give a guy a second, already.' "Yeesh, hold your horses." Greg narrowed his eyes at the man and frowned. For some reason, the guy just reminded him of the type of old man that was always just chewing a cigar angrily. "Probably needs more fiber in his diet," Greg said to himself with a slight chuckle. "Okay, let's get to work."

"Come on...ughhh!" Shifting into a crouching position, Greg pushed off the ground, his powerful legs launching him upwards into the air. He gave a condescending wave to the PRT officer below. "Thanks for the tip, old man!"

He landed in the midst of a group of rioters, causing a slight tremor as he landed. The ABB had hurriedly moved out of his landing zone, a few stumbling over themselves in their hurry to avoid being crushed. At least, Greg assumed they were ABB. There were some black people, white people and even a few Hispanics running around. However, they all had the signature red and green bandanas tied somewhere on them. While he took a moment to process the situation he placed himself in, he was the first to admit that he felt a bit confused by the mayhem going on around him.

The Trainyard area by the Docks had been transformed into a virtual war zone. SWAT and PRT fought side by side, using both vehicles and rubble for cover as they fired rounds of beanbags, rubber and plastic into the oncoming mass of people wearing red bandanas. Some had already been cocooned by containment foam as evidenced by the white blobs laying on the ground. Still, the ABB, with superior numbers and a variety of weapons, kept on pushing forward despite their lack of tactics and skill. Those of them armed with guns using actual bullets didn't hesitate to fire wildly at the officers. Those using Molotovs, grenades or other, more exotic, explosives didn't seem to hesitate either.

Carnage filled the streets near the Trainyard as the Tinker bombs went off with various colorful and unusual effects, leaving the streets and buildings with gaping holes and tongues of flame, pillars of ice and glass spikes in their wake.

Greg didn't care about what was going on around him all that much. Hell, he was having way too much fun to care about anything much.

All he had eyes for was the situation right in front of him.

That confusion near immediately turned to shock as several ABB shouted out a call that sent him whipping his head around in search of the target.

"It's that Empire fucker!"

"What? Empire? Where?" He whipped his head around, in search of a sign of a member of the Neo-Nazi gang. As he noticed that several eyes were locked firmly on him, he blinked in surprise. 'Wait, they mean me?" His surprise turned to annoyance as he took a moment to actually think. 'What is it with that? Is it the hair?' Greg patted the left side of his head, all too conscious of the lack of hair there. 'Is it really that bad?'

He was quickly drawn out of his self-conscious thought by a quick feeling of pressure on the back of his head. "The hell?"

He turned around and immediately burst out laughing.

A white guy in a tie and a short-sleeve dress shirt stood there with the splintered remains of a wooden bat in his shaking hands while wood dust and pieces of the bat fell to the ground. To top it all off, he had the oddest expression on his face, almost as if he wasn't sure what had just happened.

The sound of Greg's laughter seemed to draw the man out of his confusion and his eyes widened above his bandana. Taking his surprise as an opportunity, Greg took the chance to slap the man in the chest, sending him crumpling to the ground in a pained heap. "Nice try, guy!"

By the shouts and jeers from the other ABB close enough to the action, his actions were not appreciated by his allies. A loud yell acted as a signal and a smaller group broke out from the rioters and ran towards him, brandishing their weapons in the air.

For a moment, he didn't move a muscle, simply staring at the oncoming gangbangers as they rushed towards him. Their clothes were dirty, their eyes were bloodshot and for all intents and purposes, they looked completely ready to murder him.

Greg really didn't know why but seeing them the way they were was only gearing him up even more. Blood pounded in his ears and he clenched both trembling fists. He took one slow step forward. One step turned to two and three...and five. On and on, each movement kept getting faster and faster, increasing in speed until he was racing down the pavement to meet his would-be attackers.

It had been over twenty minutes from the time Greg had received his call to action, a set of messages warning him about incidents near the Docks.

It had taken him only five minutes to make his way there, leaping over roofs and soaring over the cars below.

Upon arrival, it only took him thirty seconds for him to completely forget the reason why he was there in the first place.

"Yeah, baby!" Greg let out a yell at the top of his lungs as the group of ABB members, nearly thirty of them, rushed at him with various weapons in hand. "Bring it!"

An ABB with a face tattoo and a red bandana around his neck lashed out at him with a length of pipe, only for Greg to lazily dodge the hunk of metal.

He slid around a machete, giggling as the blade nearly grazed his chest.

A tire iron, chain, golf club, switchblade, and appropriately enough, a katana and a pair of nunchucks, were dodged with the same ease.

Chuckling as he danced around the group, he did his best to avoid being stuck in the circle that they were trying to form around him. "Try harder, guys. I almost felt that one."

They swung again. "Whoosh!"

Another swing. "Nuh-uh."

Another. "No way."

Multiple weapons arced his way and he did his best to avoid each and every one, all the while laughing gleefully in their faces.

"Holy..." Some sort of bladed chain weapon lashed out at him and he ducked back, eyes widening as the sharp-looking blade nearly struck him in the eye. The chain was retracted and he bounced back up in a moment, chuckling at the close call. "That was so close, guys. You almost hurt my face. That's just-Nope. Ha!" The chain lashed out at his face again, this time accompanied by a golf club from the side. One hand blurred, wrapping the chain around his wrist in one quick, smooth movement while his other hand had grabbed hold of the 9-iron aimed at his neck with a literal steel grip. With both weapons in a vise grip, he pulled with his all his strength and sent the assailants flying into each other, their heads slamming into each other with a sound reminiscent of coconuts cracking.

"Wow, you guys are really bad at this. Ever thought about changing jobs?" A grin was plastered on his face as he mocked the men and their efforts. How could he not smile? There was a nonstop ballet of fighting running up and down the entire block and he was loving it. Blood was pumping through his ears and he felt incredible. "Come on, are you guys really gonna fight me? I could kick your asses up and down this city, you know."

One portly gang member, his face red from exertion and embarrassment, growled at Greg and yelled out what was most likely a curse in Japanese.

All Greg could do was snort.

Even as sweat dripped down their faces, the men wouldn't quit attacking him. Apparently viewing Greg's smiling visage as a challenge, they kept bombarding him with strikes in some demented attempt to put him down. It was ridiculous how they still seemed to think they stood a chance against him. Greg, giddy as he was, decided to encourage them. "C'mon. Like, I don't even want to fight you guys," he lied. "I mean, I'm like really white. Like a hundred percent European on both sides. Beating up Asians? That feels too much like a win for the E88, ain't it?"

One heavily tattooed member, the one holding the katana, took a step forward and pointed the long blade at the blonde. "You…you gaijin," he began in a heavy Japanese accent, "you think you can defeat us all? We were yakuza, strong and proud! Now we stand as ABB!"

Greg actually stopped his footwork for a moment, stopping to glance at the man. "I mean, sure? I beat Lung, though. The ABB's nothing without Lung. All you got left is a ninja who blows himself up all the time. You guys…you guys are fodder. I mean, Vista could probably beat you up and she's like, I dunno, eleven? No offense," Greg paused to chuckle again, "okay…some offense, but still, it's the truth."

For some unfathomable reason, the men chose to take Greg's words as an insult, baring their teeth and brandishing their weapons menacingly. "You are fool." The speaker, a burly boxer type armed with brass knuckles, rushed him and threw a punch that actually made Greg blink with how fast it was.

It connected, directly on the base of Greg's jaw. It didn't matter much, though. Greg didn't feel a thing. Neither did he make an attempt to roll with the strike or dodge it in anyway. Instead, he simply watched as the man punched the equivalent of a steel door with all his might.

The man fell to the ground, screaming and bawling like a baby as his wrist hung limply in his grasp. The sound of all the fighting prevented his screams from truly being heard but it didn't matter. His face told the full story. Greg had heard every single piece of bone in the man's wrist shatter into hundreds of pieces and stood there, simply smiling the whole time. Greg gingerly stepped over the sniveling man and faced the rest of his gang.

"And...you guys are idiots. I'm not the one fighting above my weight class here." Greg snickered at their ever growing irritation and began to bounce on his heels, bobbing up and down to get back into some sense of rhythm. "Really? Really, you still wanna go? After all this? Wooooow! Okay, don't say I didn't warn you guys."

Weaving in and out of range, Greg danced around, just waiting for the men to actually make a move.

They didn't.

Someone else did it for them.

So caught up with his enjoyment of the fight that he was in, Greg only had eyes for the group he was fighting. He was so pumped, so energized by the small brawl that he had gotten into that he doubted he could wipe the smile of his face if he tried.

A sharp burst of gunfire tore into his eardrums and ripped the smile from his face. Several stinging sensations hit him directly in the chest, right where he knew his heart would be. 'Wha...' Another sharp burst hit him, this time in the abdomen, lower down his torso. Greg blinked...He felt those...he actually felt those. They kinda stung actually. 'I guess my suit absorbed a lot more damage than I thought.'

He glanced up at the shooter, a short black woman holding an Uzi, only for her to fire off a few more shots. This time, he actually saw them. The world slowed down like it did when he had fought Lung but only for a second, actually allowing him to catch a glint of the bullets as they raced towards him. As fast as the sensation came, it disappeared and the bullets struck him center mass, stinging like mosquito bites as they bounced off his skin. 'Wait. So, it wasn't just the suit last time?' Ignoring the shooter's growingly frantic expression and the screams of pain from those who managed to catch the ricochets, Greg glanced down at his bare chest again. "Pecs of steel? Alright! I'm bulletproof!"

The woman, apparently smarter than most of the others, decided to cut her losses, dropping the Uzi and running for it, only for a white male to pick it up and aim the gun at where he thought Greg was. He had barely held the projectile weapon for a second before Greg's fist smashed into his face, sending him twirling like a ballerina.

Greg turned in a slow circle, eyeing the rest of the group. "Who's up next?"

An older man chose to take the challenge, rushing at him with a length of pipe. He swung wildly at Greg, even though he wasn't getting any closer to hitting him. "One on one, really? I mean, come on," Greg shouted out, rolling his eyes. "Come on." The man kept on attacking, seemingly unperturbed by the ease of Greg's avoidance. Ducking under the swing a final time, he grabbed hold of the pipe and ripped it out of the man's hands and tossed it over his shoulder. Before he could react, Greg followed it up with a relatively "light" palm thrust to his chest, sending the man flying backwards a good four feet. Wincing at the knockback, Greg still couldn't resist smiling even as he called out with a "Don't wanna say I told you so!"

Before anyone else could make a move, Greg caught sight of something.

A clear bottle, nearly bursting with bright orange flames, arced down toward the group he had centered himself in.

'What the…' He leapt into the air and caught it, landing meters behind the group he had been fighting eyes wide as he goggled at the bottle.

"A Molotov cocktail? I saw this in a game before! Awesome!" Greg held the bottle up to eye level and gave the thing a little shake, marveling at the way the fire moved like liquid inside the vodka bottle. The burning rag splashed against his arm, allowing him to actually feel a bit of warmth from the flames. It was oddly...refreshing, almost like his hand was in a warm bath. 'Weird...' Shaking his head, Greg threw the bottle back in the general direction it came from, albeit much harder. From the sound of the glass shattering on asphalt and the vaguely Chinese expletives that followed, the explosive managed to hit one of the rioters and that was good enough for Greg.

With a huge smile on his face, he leapt forward into the thick of the crowd.

Private Mongreen watched with his mouth agape as the once terrifying horde of criminals slowly get whittled down to a disorganized mob. He crouched behind a rusted out delivery truck, the decrepit hunk of junk more than enough to keep him and Daly out of sight from the eyes of any ABB.

Then again, it wasn't as if they would notice them anyway. The boy was keeping them more than occupied all on his own, jumping and spinning like a blonde dervish. Men fell to the ground, grabbing their stomachs and groaning as a blur rushed around each individual member of the mob. Weapons ripped from each rioter's grasp littered the ground, some bent and others completely broken in half due to the force of the kid's grip.

"Haiyaah! Super Combo! Reverse Spin Kick! Spinning Back Knuckle! Ten Hit Combo!" The blonde's shouts were emphasized with periodic bursts of laughter punctuating every strange phrase. Mongreen had seen cape fights before but nothing had ever struck him quite like this. The kid was cheering and whooping at the top of his lungs, basically treating the whole thing like a game as he called out his attacks. Flipping backwards, the kid dropped a heel on an unsuspecting gunner's back, shouting out, "Flash kick!" as the rifle-toting Asian fell to the ground with a scream of pain.

Private Mongreen actually winced at the sight. 'That's not gonna be easy to get up from.'

"Shoryuken!" A bald man was sent skidding back on the asphalt from a powerful uppercut. Mongreen blinked as the familiar word brought back an old memory, one he associated with long summer days and heavy bags of quarters. 'You've got to be kidding me. He's treating this like a game of Street Fighter?'

A shout of "Super Greg Special: Double Sonic Slam!" answered his question, the kid performing a double fisted slam into the concrete to create a small crater. The action sent a few rioters to the ground and the kid laughed, jumping back into the action.

Mongreen couldn't help but grin, his inner cape geek and game nerd enjoying every moment. "This is so…"

"Ridiculous!" The sudden shout and the unexpected weight of a heavy hand on his shoulder tore the private's attention away from the fight. Jerking his head to the right, he saw Daly crouching much closer to him than he had been before, the corporal's bulky frame looming over his much smaller one.

"You see this shit, Mongreen?" asked Daly, his voice resounding with the same grizzly cadence it usually had. To Mongreen's ears, Delta Squad's corporal always sounded more than a bit ticked off. Honestly, every time the older man spoke, he couldn't help but picture a massive cigar and a thick beard on the normally clean shaven teetotaler.

"Sir?" replied Mongreen.

The man was facing Mongreen and even though the younger officer couldn't see his superior's face beneath his visor, he knew the man was openly scowling.

"You seeing this shit, Mongreen?" Daly repeated.

Mongreen glanced back at the action to see the kid literally fling two ABB into the air with a shout of "Air throw!" The private turned to face the corporal again, extremely glad that the man couldn't see the smile beneath his tinted faceplate. "I see it, sir."

"Whaddya think about it?" Daly held his rifle up to eye level as he peered out behind the back of the truck, eyes locked on to a few retreating ABB.

Mongreen was silent, unsure of how to respond to the question. Even in his best moods, Corporal Daly could be unduly harsh and speaking to the man was like entering a minefield. It could be tricky figuring out what to say.

"Well, sir…" began Daly, "I think he's just doing his job."

"His job?" Daly growled. "Doing his job, Mongreen? That really what you think?"

Daly's smile faded at his superior's tone. "Sir?"

"I said..." Daly began again, growl deepening into a snarl, "Open up your cock holster and tell me what you think."

'Uh...I guess, sir", Mongreen gulped, hands shaking around his rifle. "I mean, he's a cape. Capes fight crime, sir. They're superheroes, sir. Helping us is what they do."

Corporal Daly shook his head. "Damn it, private! You've been part of Delta Squad for how long now?"

"Eight months now, sir," Mongreen replied quickly.

"Eight months, Mongreen? Eight fuckin' months and you still can't see the goddamn truth! Capes are not in this to help fuckin' anybody!" spat Daly. "Do you not see Armsmaster, that crazy shadow girl, and goddamn Assault? Not to mention that little shit that fucks around with time or whatever. They're all in this for shits and giggles and this one right here," Daly gestured his rifle at the blonde kid still fighting the crowd, "this one's even crazier than the rest of them."

Mongreen couldn't help but stare at the corporal. He knew the older man had some issues but this? This was a bit much. "But, sir…"

"There is no buts in this situation, Mongreen. Shut your damn cock hole and listen." The older man turned away from the fight and turned to face his junior officer. He lowered his gun slowly and lifted up his faceplate to affix the younger with a gray-eyed glare. The man opened his mouth wide enough for Mongreen to see his teeth and he spoke again, hissing through clenched jaws. "Capes are fuckin' crazy. They ain't no goddamn superheroes. You ain't been around capes long, kid."

"...no, sir. No I haven't," acquiesced Mongreen. The young officer couldn't exactly say he had a lot of experience being around capes. While he had been a cape geek in his youth, Mongreen had to admit that he had generally viewed capes, heroes specifically, as being larger than life. He never put much thought into what they were actually like as people.

"Capes are psycho, Mongreen. Crazy as shit. They fight for the hell of it, you know. They'd go after civs if they could. Fuckin' attack dogs, like pitbulls, and we're the only ones holding on the leash." The man closed his eyes and shook his head sagely as if he had just imparted some thoughtful wisdom.

Mongreen just stared at the corporal, a worry that his superior was in serious need of counseling steadily growing in his chest. It was times like this that he wished the man would just give in and develop some kind of habit. Cigarettes, alcohol, cocaine, it really didn't matter to Mongreen. Anything to get the man to relax was fine in his book.

In lieu of anything else to say, he simply replied, "...that makes a lot of sense, sir."

Daly simply harrumphed and turned back to the action, raising his rifle once again.

His reaction left the younger officer feeling as if he had said the wrong thing somewhere in their conversation. Deciding to give up, Mongreen mimicked Daly and turned to face the action again.

The non-Asians had scattered, seemingly terrified by the way that the kid was cheering his head off while mowing them down despite their superior numbers. The actual ABB didn't seem to follow the same line of thought as their unwilling conscripts, jumping into the fray as if they were as invincible as the lone figure that stood against them.

The kid was almost impossible to see with how fast he seemed to move. He seemed to flicker from person to person at times, striking them so fast that Mongreen was often unsure if they had actually been hit or if they were simply too scared to keep fighting.

The din of explosions had given way to the screams and groans of the ABB, interspersed with the kid's cheers and hollers and a bit of gunfire from a few advancing PRT officers. Apart from a few remaining rioters running around the block, the main issue still remained. Around several garbage trucks, rusted junkers and pieces of rubble, over a dozen heavily armed Asian men and women crouched and hid.

One of them in particular, a scrawnier man with a single tattoo coiling around his shaven head and a bulging satchel around his waist, had climbed to the top of the large dump truck. Mongreen's eyes widened as he spotted the man pull out what appeared to be an oddly shaped grenade launcher. It seemed to have some similarity to a classical recoilless rifle, but the rear of the launch tube had been modified extensively, creating a rather wide cone.

The armed ABB member dropped to one knee and placed the tube on his shoulder, angling the barrel directly to aim at the kid still fighting down the block.

Mongreen let out a small gasp and he turned to his corporal. "Sir-"

"I see it, Mongreen," the man replied. "He's obviously not gonna shoot the thing till he's got a clear shot. Half his friends are still on the ground."

"But sir, he's got an RPG over there! We have to do something!"

Daly snorted and for a moment, Mongreen thought the man was actually going to laugh again.

"We don't have to do anything, private. That kid," Daly jerked a thumb in the blonde boy's general direction, "ain't one of our dogs. He sure as hell ain't PRT. All of that means is he ain't our problem. Understand?" Daly finished with a snarl.

Mongreen flinched at the sight of the man baring his teeth at him once again, his words making the action much more menacing. "B-but sir," he began, speaking slowly so as not to antagonize the obviously disturbed man, "he's just a kid."

Daly moved forward a few paces, eliciting another flinch from Mongreen as he got close enough for him to see the hate in the corporal's eyes. "That thing out there ain't a kid, Mongreen. It's not human. Once they get those powers, none of them are." Daly turned back to the action, raising his weapon back up.

Mongreen blinked at the vitriol in his superior's tone. "S-sir, that's j-just…" Pausing to steady himself, Mongreen took a breath and began again. "That type of thinking's just plain wrong, sir."

Daly's head snapped back around to glare at the younger man, nearly forcing Mongreen to recoil. "Wrong, private? You think I'm wrong?" The private began to shift backwards as Daly began to advance on him, inching forward.

Mongreen dropped his rifle and raised his hands up, trying to placate the angry man. "N-no, sir. That's not what I-"

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about?" interrupted Daly, hissing the question. The older man's glare was like steel, constantly chipping away at any confidence Mongreen had built up. "I've been in this job 16 years, you little shit! Before that, I was SWAT for eight years and a beat cop for 5. I took down a couple fucks with powers before the "Protectorate" was even an idea. And you're telling me that I don't know what I'm t-"

Daly was interrupted by a sudden whoosh of air and a low booming noise that barely lasted for more than a second. The two officers ran to the edge of their cover to see what could have made the noise. Mongreen stepped out and his jaw dropped.

The ABB armed with the launcher had launched his payload, leaving an odd purple trail that stopped directly over the blonde kid. The bomb had left no visible mark on him or anything else caught in the blast zone but something must have happened. The kid himself had fallen to his knees, an expression of intense pain on his face that he shared with a lot of the rioters standing around him. The few rioters still down on the street, even those Mongreen believed to have been knocked out, had their faces contorted in silent pain.

Daly stepped up, moving past Mongreen with a scowl on his face. "What the h-"

The corporal was cut off once again, this time by an inhuman howl of pain that sent chills down Mongreen's back.

The scream came from the blond cape followed by a flare of red light from his body. The flare died down to a soft haze just above the kid's skin and Mongreen watched as he clutched his head, still screaming the entire time. The rioters surrounding him had fallen unconscious, lying still on the bare asphalt as the cape roared above them.

The cape stumbled a few times with his eyes still closed, shaking his head wildly as he tried to move forward. The longer he screamed the more his bellowing began to sound vaguely like words.

The ABB member with the heavy weapon had been looking on in confusion at the kid's strange behavior. Mongreen could tell that this was not what he had expected judging from the way the man's gaze kept darting between the kid and the launcher in his hand. The man reached into the satchel he wore at his waist and pulled out another one of those oddly colored Tinker bombs.

"Watch out, kid!" someone shouted out in warning.

The shirtless kid whipped around to face him, finally opening his eyes to expose blazing red irises.

"Shit."

Mongreen ignored the sound of Daly cursing quietly behind him and took a few hurried steps back. The cape dropped his arms from his head and roared in his direction, the guttural sound washing over him in a way that felt all too physical. From the corner of his eye, Mongreen noticed several PRT officers on the other side of the street preparing containment foam launchers that they definitely didn't have before. The kid roared again and Mongreen flinched, taking a few more steps back. He turned his head as a sense of unease began to creep over him, doing his best to avert his eyes from the kid's own.

The kid had stopped his roaring, only emitting a semi-audible growl as he watched Mongreen, as if waiting for something. Despite his fear, Mongreen worked up the courage to scream out another warning. "Not me! Behind you!"

The ABB member on top of the garbage truck had been experiencing the same fear Mongreen had been under, judging by the expression on the man's face. He pulled back his arm and let the Tinker grenade fly, the sphere beeping as it arced towards the unstable cape on the ground.

In a red blur, the kid whipped around and caught the device, crushing the baseball-sized piece of metal like a grape. The sudden action was not something either Mongreen or the bomber had been expecting and it showed from the looks on both their faces. However less than a moment after his fingers fully compressed the grenade, it went off with a muffled 'Krak!' releasing sparks and something that Mongreen had already gained a familiarity with.

Spurts of green liquid burst from the ball and landed on the kid's wrist and arm, forcing a much higher-pitched scream from his throat. The kid dropped the sparking bits of crumpled metal and held his hand to his chest, screaming like a madman.

After a few seconds of this, the ABB began to shoot at him as if they thought bullets would actually have an effect now. As the first few bullets ricocheted into the kid, he looked up again and roared in the direction of the stunned bomber and the few remaining ABB still behind cover, raising his hands in the air. Mongreen noticed the extent of the damage to his arm and winced. From the middle of the forearm and below, the skin was completely charred, and in some cases, completely absent. The red haze around the kid increased in intensity and he raised his head and ran screaming forward into their makeshift barricade.

Mongreen's jaw dropped completely as the kid slammed his functional fist into the ground.

Once.

It was like an earthquake. The dump truck toppled over, sending several ABB to the ground in a painful heap. Windows from buildings and cars around him that hadn't yet shattered, did. Even from down the block, Mongreen had felt the ground shift under his feet and Daly had spouted another litany of profanities. Screams from the ABB increased as the kid grabbed a sedan and hurled it at a group that had chosen to retreat, the hunk of metal only barely avoiding their fleshy bodies and crashing through a building.

The kid roared once more, the sound still possessing that odd physical element that made it feel like so much more than mere noise. In another red blur, he leapt into the air and quickly disappeared over the taller buildings.

Mongreen got to his feet, all too aware that his knees were shaky. Hell, his hands were shaky too after what he just saw. He glanced around, noting that he was not the only one feeling the same way. Other PRT looked just as stunned as he was, foam sprayers and rifles hanging from their limp hands.

Daly, though? He didn't look bothered. The corporal had removed his faceplate completely and was staring at the carnage the kid had left behind with an expression that Mongreen could only describe as grimly smug. The ABB that had been armed with the launcher was unmoving, his lower half trapped under the dump truck, and eyes wide open in shock and pain as he bled out. He wasn't quite dead yet but it was only a matter of time. "So, private, still think I'm wrong? I told you...worse than fuckin' animals."

Mongreen didn't look up at the man, looking out in a different direction. His eyes roamed all over, from the unmoving ABB that were caught in the blast zone of the earlier Tinker grenade, the one that had left an odd purple streak in the air, all the way to the few officers still licking their wounds. He still couldn't get himself to view Daly's words as anything other as hate-mongering. The kid had been playing around at first, just enjoying himself, and who could blame him? He looked like he was having the time of his life. The look in his eyes when those Tinker bombs had done...well, whatever they had done to him, was haunting. There was real pain in the kid's eyes, physical pain, but all that had been masked by the obvious and visible rage.

He felt a hand on his shoulder again and glanced up at Daly. "Let's go foam these fucks, Mongreen. I've got things to do."

Mongreen glanced up at the corporal and couldn't help but scowl at the man, his hand tightening around his rifle.

"Yes...sir."


	45. Complications 2-14A

**Complications 2.14A**

* * *

Greg woke up gasping for breath, his lungs burning as a thick, hot liquid poured down his throat.

He was falling or maybe floating. He couldn't tell which. His mouth tasted like iron and he didn't know why. Was his throat bleeding? How did he get so deep underwater? What happened?

Kicking and thrashing, he accomplished nothing but work himself into a frenzy as he kept trying to come up for air. His lungs were on fire and nothing was helping! An involuntary scream ripped from his throat as he continued to thrash, the sound nothing more than gurgles in the thick liquid he was trapped in.

 _Please, I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't wanna die!_

* * *

 **THEN DON'T.**

* * *

Every frantic gasp of air felt like flaming knives scraping his throat. He choked on the thick fluid and his lungs struggled for air. Blood was the only thing he could taste. His gurgled screaming was the only thing he could hear. Sight was useless in the darkness of this lake...river...ocean? He didn't know. He just wanted out.

* * *

 **WHO'S STOPPING YOU?**

* * *

He was drowning in the darkness, with no help and no one by his side. Greg really didn't want to die, especially not like this. His thrashing and kicking did nothing but send him tumbling head over heels over and over. _Not like this...not like this!_

He felt like screaming for his mom, for Ev, Armsmaster, Glory Girl, for anyone, anyone at all to come save him but he couldn't afford to waste what little air he had left.

He had been under so long already, but he didn't feel weak or tired at all. An icy cold crept over his body even with the warmth of the liquid he was suspended in. It hurt like the pain in his lungs but it didn't stay still. It kept moving and that made it _so_ much worse.

 _Please, God, I don't want to die. Please, I'll do anything. Just save me._

Praying? He was praying?

He had never stepped in a church in his life and he was praying now? To a man in the sky he didn't even believe in? _Scion, please help! Scion!_

To Scion? That was what he was hoping for now? Was he really that delusional? _Ev? Ev! Please help me!_

He felt like crying. Who knows? He might have already been crying. In the darkness, surrounded by water, he wouldn't be able to tell even if he wanted to.

* * *

 **JUST PATHETIC. I EXPECTED BETTER.**

* * *

Greg closed his eyes only to suddenly open them as he suddenly found himself choking again, an incredible pressure constricting his neck. More warm liquid rushed into his mouth once again and he screamed another gargled cry for help.

His hands rushed to his throat only to make contact with a meaty palm crushing his trachea. Where was this coming from? Who was doing this? Why? For a moment, he cursed his powers for forcing him to still be conscious after this long. Regular people would have died long ago, starved of the air they needed but no, not him. His body wouldn't let him.

He tried to struggle, to resist, to fight back against whoever was doing this to him. His own fists beat against the wrist reaching down into the darkness but to no avail. His strength was worthless against the steel cords of muscle that made up his attacker's arm. _Try something! Gotta try something else!_

Greg angled his head and stretched forward as much as he could despite the pain it induced on his already strained neck. In a snapping motion, he bucked forward and tried to bite the hand that held him captive. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite able to stretch far enough.

The grip around his throat tightened, preventing him from even gurgling out a scream. He just wanted it to end. Why couldn't they just break his neck and end it? Why were they doing this? He hadn't done anything to deserve this! Black spots finally began to creep into his vision and he felt himself going limp as his breath became shallower and shallower.

 ** _"KRU NE DERUKRU."_**

A voice deeper and more powerful than he had ever heard pounded through his head, sending a shock through his nervous system. The words were strange, harsh, with a guttural tone that almost hurt to hear. Oddly, Greg had the feeling that he should have understood those words. The fact that he didn't felt like a personal insult somehow.

He gasped again as he was suddenly wrenched from the deep into air once again, the surface of the water exploding as he was pulled out with tremendous force. Inhaling through his nose, he did his best to suck in as much air as he could with his throat still being compressed.

Wrenching his eyelids open, he blinked the warm liquid away, thankful that he was finally free of the wet darkness. A wave of heat washed over him, drying him near instantly and he opened his eyes. He caught sight of the figure holding him by his neck and kept on blinking as his sluggish, oxygen-deprived brain tried to process exactly what he was seeing.

 ** _"GREG. VEDER."_**

Connected to the huge hand wrapped around his neck was a massive body with a face that he was very familiar with. In fact, he saw it every single day of his life.

In the mirror.

 ** _"GREG. VEDER."_**

Greg looked directly into the black sclera and red irises of his captor, his own eyes widening in shock and fear. "Huh?"

 ** _"KRU NE DERUKRU."_**

Fear clogged his thoughts. "I-I-I d-"

The hulk of a man threw back his head and roared. The sound was deeper and more terrifying than anything Greg had ever heard in his life. He felt a warning deep in the most primal parts of his mind, his animal instincts screaming at him to do anything but stay in the vicinity of whatever made _that_.

The man shifted his head, a massive mane of blonde hair flowing with the movement. He locked eyes with Greg and grinned, exposing a maw filled with nothing but rows and rows of razor sharp teeth.

 ** _"KRU NE DERUKRU."_**

Greg gulped as the meaning of the words finally hit home. " _Kru ne derukru_ ," he parroted hoarsely, struggling to draw breath through the grip on his throat. "Weak and worthless."

His own face smiled at him with the same sharp grin that he had seen from Evron so many times. **_"DREV AN RAITH, AL KERAN."_**

Greg blinked rapidly as the meaning slammed into his brain with the force of a sledgehammer. Visions of death, carnage and primal violence forced their way into his mind combined with words, symbols and images that he couldn't even understand. Without even thinking, Greg translated the words that he immediately understood. "B-blood and rage, young p-prince."

The grin widened and the other-Greg nodded, patting his cheek with another massive hand. Greg winced as unruly nails cut into his cheek, drawing blood almost immediately. The other-him didn't seem to care, a smile still on his face. **_"GOOD GREG."_**

Thankfully, the pressure around his neck vanished and he sucked in a big gasp of much-needed air.

That gasp of air turned into a scream of terror as he began to fall backwards, faster and faster until he realized that he was in total free-fall. Other-Greg had disappeared somehow, dropping him to fall to his death. "What the hell?!"

The last time Greg had been in free-fall, he had been laughing his head off. The rush of air as he fell and the excitement of the fight had made him feel so euphoric that he didn't even feel the pain he had been in. He hadn't been in his right mind before. Now? He was perfectly aware of his situation and able to understand it.

It was not fun. It was not awesome.

He would rather be drowning right now.

As he kept falling, he saw what looked like a sea of clouds rushing up to meet him. He didn't understand what was going on! None of this made any sense! He was just underwater a few moments ago. He shouldn't be this high up!

His screams faded away as his fall began to slow down to a crawl, his body slowly floating down every few seconds. Eventually, he stopped moving altogether and remained frozen in mid-air. "What in the…"

 **CONFUSING, ISN'T IT? IT CAN BE A SCARY PLACE.**

"Who's there? Where are you?" Greg whipped his head around, searching for the source of the voice. "Say something!"

 **UP HERE, CHILD.**

Greg glanced up and saw…

"Evron?"

The figure had to be Evron. The hair, the face, even the same self-satisfied smirk...it was exactly the same. Apart from the white, pupil-less eyes and the all-white ensemble, there would have been nothing marking him as anyone other than Evron. He even shared that same odd glow Evron carried around him, only much stronger.

 **NO, EMBER CHILD, WE ARE NOT THE SAME.**

Greg's eyes narrowed. "So, you're pretending to be Ev?" Greg gave the cape a once-over, noting various missing details. "It's a good Halloween costume but not that good."

The cape's face gained an odd expression, a mix of curiosity and excitement.

 **NOT AT ALL. I PRETEND AT NOTHING. I AM WHAT I AM.**

"Uhhh…" Greg didn't exactly understand what the cape was getting at. "So…"

 **CONSIDER ME A RELATIVE OF EVRON GREY.** **  
**  
The smile that the not-Evron flashed him was familiar enough to be comforting yet distinctly inhuman.

 **A VERY CLOSE RELATIVE. SO CLOSE WE RARELY EVER PART.**

"Yeah?" Greg replied skeptically. "How come he didn't mention you?"

 **YOUNG GREY WOULDN'T EXACTLY CHOOSE TO BE AROUND ME AS IT IS.**

The not-Evron pouted and placed a hand under his chin.

 **THE LITTLE FIREBOLT AND I AREN'T EXACTLY ON THE BEST OF TERMS RIGHT NOW.**

Greg blinked, his face pursing up in confusion at the odd way of referring to Ev. _Little firebolt? The hell kinda name is that? Why would he call Ev that?_

 **EVRON ONCE SOUGHT TO CLEAR HIS MIND AND HARDEN HIS HEART LIKE HIS FATHER, COLD AS ICE.**  
 **YET HE WEAKENS UNDER HIS OWN DUALITY.**  
 **HIS VIOLENT, RAGING HEART AND UNSTABLE, SHIFTING MIND.**

Not-Evron paused his words as he floated down, stopping when he was just above eye level to Greg.

He stood vertically in the air, all-white clothes billowing in nonexistent wind, while Greg remained frozen in horizontal free-fall.

 **HE IS ALSO VERY MUCH STILL A CHILD.**  
 **HENCE, LITTLE FIREBOLT.**

Greg stared, watching quietly as the cape kept speaking. The smile on his face looked almost...wistful.

 **STILL, HE HAS MADE AN EFFORT SINCE HIS EARLIER DAYS.**

Listening to the cape speak, Greg was almost completely sure that this wasn't one of his mentor's pranks. The way this cape spoke was too different from Evron's careless, disjointed drawl. This was too neat, too modulated. The tone was so structured in such a way that it could only be described as, well...perfect. While it still rang with some of the same tones as Evron's dark humor in a way, it was still less...connected, less _caring?_

No. Evron couldn't be called caring. He didn't seem to care about anything as much as he understood. This just felt empty.

 **I SUPPOSE I SHOULD CALL HIM BOLT NOW.**  
 **HIS FLAME RARELY SHOWS ITSELF ANYMORE.**  
 **FOR SUCH A LONG TIME ACTING AS ICE, HE HAS SHOWN SUCH CONTROL.**  
 **IMPRESSIVE, BUT POOR ALL THE SAME.**

Greg blinked in confusion as the cape stopped talking. "Huh? I don't really...umm...what was that first part again?" It wasn't like he wasn't paying attention to the guy. He was frozen in midair and he had nowhere else to look but up. Greg just couldn't understand what he was going on about, honestly.

The cape raised an eyebrow at Greg, the right side of his mouth following the movement to create a textbook smirk.

 **AH, YOU'RE STILL HERE?**  
 **YOU'RE SO TINY I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT YOU.**

"What? Tiny?" Greg spluttered as he tried to come up with a retort. _I'm taller than this guy. Where does he get off calling me tiny?_ Before Greg could use that line, the cape spoke again.

 **FIREBOLT DOES NOT LIKE IT WHEN I CALL HIM THAT, YOU KNOW.  
HE FINDS IT PATRONIZING.** **  
**  
The smile that was turned Greg's way was hidden behind thin, almost translucent lips but it sent a shiver down his spine all the same.

 **LITTLE BOLT ABHORS BEING PATRONIZED YET HE LOVES TO DO SO TO OTHERS.**  
 **AN ENTITLED LITTLE THING, ISN'T HE?**

"You're preaching to the choir, bro. Ev's my teacher," Greg snorted, seemingly forgetting both the insult and the absurdity of the situation he was currently in. "He does it to me all the time. Seems fair that he's getting some payback even if it's not from me."

Greg chuckled a bit until he realized something, something that sent a chill down his back. "Wait, how did you answer that question?"

The smile that was sent his way seemed an order of magnitude more terrifying than before.

 **YOU ASKED, I ANSWERED.**  
 **I BELIEVE THAT'S HOW QUESTIONS WORK.**

"B-but I only thought that!" Greg screamed. He didn't understand! First he was drowning, then he was being strangled by himself, and now…this. None of this made any sense!

"I never said it out loud!" Reading minds wasn't a real thing! Everyone knew that. Even the Simurgh couldn't just pluck a thought from someone's head.

 **NO, YOU DIDN'T.** Not-Ev replied to his frantic words calmly, cocking his head to the side curiously.

"What?"

 **NO VOCAL CHORDS TO VIBRATE, NO LUNGS TO DRAW BREATH FROM, NO MOUTH TO FORM WORDS.**  
 **THOUGHTS, WORDS, IDEAS…**  
 **THEY'RE ALL THE SAME IN HERE.**

A growing sense of discomfort was working its way up his chest as he tried to understand what the figure could be saying. "In…here? Where is here?" Greg turned his head, the only part of his body that he could move, only to see blue skies and fluffy white clouds below him. Was he dreaming? This had to be a dream, a nightmare, really. "Am I dreaming, then? Is this just some fucked-up nightmare?"

 **IMPULSE.**

Greg started at the sudden response. After taking a moment to process the non-sequitur, he blinked. "What? Is that your cape name or something?"

 **NO. YOU.**

"Me? What are you even talking about, man?"

 **GREG VEDER.**

 **IMPULSIVE. ███████████████████████████████**

A low droning sound erupted from the cape's mouth as he spoke, leaving Greg confused. _The hell?_

 **TACTLESS.████████████RA████████████TY. ████████████E.**

 **████████████ SMILES████████████FEAR. CLINGING TO MOTHER FOR COMFORT████████████NEEDINESS, ██████████████████████**

 **██████████████FORCE ████████████████████████ATH**

 **███████████████████████████████████████████████████████THE WORLD? AND MANY OTHERS TO COME.**

Greg opened his mouth but no sound came out. He wasn't sure how much time had passed till he managed to say one word that encapsulated his present feelings. "What?!"

The white-eyed cape didn't answer and simply stared at him, the same small smile playing on his lips. Greg could only scowl at this point. He didn't care what some nonsense-spouting cape had to say. He knew he was impulsive. His mom knew he was impulsive. Half of Winslow knew that. Calling him a mama's boy was a low blow but he could brush it off. The other stuff just sounded like something an insane Thinker would spout. He really didn't care about that. He wanted answers. "Forget it, then! Just answer my first question! Where am I?"

The same smile beamed down at him and Greg scowled back.

That smile was the same one Evron usually gave him when he didn't feel like answering a question. Greg didn't usually press his mentor but that was out of the little respect he had for him.

He didn't know this guy and he had no respect for him at all. "Answer me, come on! Where am I?"

 **ARE YOU WHINING, EMBER CHILD?**

Greg scowled at the figure imitating his mentor. "I'm not whining! I don't whine!" he shouted, his own trepidation being ignored as he began to get agitated. "I was asking you a question! And what's with the ember child crap? You keep calling me that! My name is Greg! Four letters! G. R. E. G." He ended his minor rant with a glare, watching as the false Evron's smile widened the more he spoke.

 **I CALL YOU EMBER CHILD BECAUSE OF YOUR TEMPER.**  
 **WEAK AND SPINELESS YOU MAY BE BUT THERE ARE SHORT MOMENTS. VERY SHORT, I WILL ADMIT, WHERE YOU ACTUALLY SHINE.**

The smile that Greg could see on the face staring down at him looked like something bordering on pride with more than a hint of anticipation, almost as if he was waiting for something. _What is this guy talking about? Weak and spineless? Fuck his weak and spineless! I'll show him weak and spineless!_

Greg grit his teeth and openly growled at the cape, the sound reverberating down his throat in a way that just felt right. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Weak? Fuck you! You...you...uh...you fucking snowball. You...you're...ugh!" Greg paused, trying to think of another insult. "Fuck you! Who the hell do you think you are anyway?"

The smile on the cape's face spread into an open grin, displaying a mouth of perfectly flat white teeth that shone like diamonds. It was almost a shock for Greg, so used to Evron's razor sharp smile that anything else in that mouth was unnerving.

 **WHERE ARE MY MANNERS?**  
 **I HAVEN'T FORMALLY INTRODUCED MYSELF.**  
 **I BELIEVE MY PRECIOUS LITTLE BOLT HAS ALREADY TOLD YOU ABOUT ME.**  
 **WHAT WAS THE TITLE HE USED?**  
 **AN ASSHOLE?**

 **NO. NO, I RECALL IT AS A BIT MORE COMPLIMENTARY** **.**

The cape raised a finger to his chin.

 **THE INCREDIBLE? NO.**  
 **THE AMAZING? NO, I REMEMBER NOW.**

 **THE OMNIPOTENT ASSHOLE.**  
 **THAT WAS THE TITLE HE GAVE ME WHEN I FIRST IRRITATED HIM.**

"W-w-what?"

 **AN OMNIPOTENT ASSHOLE. SURELY, YOU REMEMBER.**

Greg did, in fact, remember. Evron had mentioned the name more than a few times, describing it as "the source of his powers."

All the confidence and righteous anger that he felt disappeared in an instant and all Greg could do was gulp as he tried to understand what was going on. "Uh…y-y-you…"

The smile widened a bit more, eliciting a wince from Greg. **I KNOW, I KNOW. IT'S A BIT OF A MOUTHFUL.**  
 **THE OMNIPOTENT ASSHOLE? NO, TOO MUCH FOR A NAME.**  
 **YOU, EMBER, CAN CALL ME NEXUS.**

"Wh-why are you h-here?" Greg asked. Despite his attempts to sound confident, he couldn't stop himself from stumbling over his own words. Evron had called this guy omnipotent and he was pretty sure that he hadn't been joking when he said it. If anything, Evron had sounded angry when he spoke about this guy.

 **HERE? THERE? WHERE EXACTLY DO YOU MEAN?** He chuckled softly.

 **I'M EVERYWHERE, CHILD.**  
 **EVERYWHERE EVRON GOES, I FOLLOW.**  
 **SAME THING FOR YOU, MY EMBER CHILD. I NEVER LEAVE MY HOSTS ALONE.**

"What?" The last sentence made Greg blink in surprise. "Hosts? What do you mean by hooooooooooooooooo-"

Without even getting to finish his sentence, Greg was in free-fall once again, hurtling towards the sea of clouds. He looked up at Nexus, the white figure barely a dot in the sky. Even though he was already so far away, he could hear his parting words resounding in the air.

 **TRY TO REMEMBER SOMETHING AT LEAST.**  
 **I'D HATE TO HAVE TO EXPLAIN ALL THIS AGAIN.**

 _What? Remember what?_ He still didn't understand anything!

The clouds rushed up to meet him and Greg closed his eyes preparing for the landing he knew was imminent. He was one hundred percent sure that directly beneath those clouds was a lake or an ocean. At the height he was falling from, he was pretty sure that an instant death was all he could expect, even with powers. He flapped his hands wildly, screams getting more and more high pitched as he neared the clouds and then…nothing.

Greg cracked an eye open as a light feeling of wetness sprayed him, dampening him somewhat but nothing more. No broken neck, no destroyed spine, no ruined body. "I'm still alive, baby! Still alive! Still…still…" His cheers began to taper off as he realized one highly important fact. "Still…falling…oh…oh, shit. What the…"

Greg's premature celebration died away as he realized that not only was he still falling but that the body of water that he thought would be his landing spot…wasn't exactly water.

 _Blood? And it's boiling? How does this make any sense?_

His assessment was correct. An entire ocean of bubbling blood awaited him below. He had no idea what was going on anymore. Was any of this even real? Had he lost his mind? "I have, huh? I've lost my fucking mind!"

Who was he even talking to?

Did any of it even matter anymore?

As the ocean came closer and closer, Greg felt like smiling. He was oddly okay with this. He was pretty sure that something else fucked up would happen in a few seconds and save him before he landed. That was just how today was going.

Greg kept that thought in mind and he actually burst out into a smile. A few seconds later, he was laughing out loud. He was still laughing out loud half a minute later when he hit the boiling ocean and warm, coppery blood filled his lungs.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **This chapter is confusing, I know.**

 **Blah blah, plot-reasons. Blah, blah, bigger narrative.**

 **It'll explain itself soon enough.**

 **Yeah, I've been busy for a bit. I got all the PDF's for the Mutants and Masterminds 3rd Edition and forgot all about XCOM, Skyrim, Fallout, etc...**  
 **Anyway, I created Greg an M &M profile. A bunch of guys and gals in my Philosophy class decided to meet up a couple times a week for an M&M game with 2e Iron Age rules, so basically permadeath Worm-grittiness. Long story short, Greg got his skull caved in by Deadshot wielding an RPG on his first mission. Next game session, I tried again. This time, Greg got ganked by Zoom.**

 **Equation Time: Speedforce Psycho Time traveller plus Rookie Brute equals chunky teen salsa.**

 **So basically, Greg would last all of ten seconds in the DC Universe.**


	46. Complications 2-14B

**Complications 2.14B**

* * *

Keep moving…  
 **Pain.**  
Keep moving…  
 **Pain.**  
Keep moving…

* * *

Greg blinked and stumbled back as a feeling of light-headedness seemed to vanish.

His arm hurt.

Why did his arm hurt?

A quick glance answered his first question. The skin was missing and the bone was showing.

That was a good enough reason as any for the pain but that only raised more questions. How did he get hurt?

He was untouchable. He was unstoppable. Right?

Why was he missing skin then? Why was the bone showing?

Why was a kid holding on to that same arm? Couldn't she see it hurt?

Wait...a kid?

Greg stopped moving, the little girl's crying increasing in pitch and volume the moment he did so.

Where was he? Why was he holding a kid?

A crash of wood and a gout of flame bursting from a wall reminded him. _Oh, yeah, I remember now. This place is on fire._

The crying reminded him that him he needed to move but he was having trouble doing even that. _Why can't I move?_

Greg blinked, trying to get his bearings. He remembered falling, right?

Bleeding and screaming and falling...

So...so much blood...

"Ughhhh..." Greg let out a groan at the sudden pulse of pain that hit him. _A migraine?_

"Can't worry about that now," Greg muttered to himself as he tried to shake away the pain.

He had fallen, that much he remembered. He didn't remember his landing but he could recall waking up and struggling to do so much as lift his head. The room had been comfortably warm and he had simply decided to lay there and stare at the ceiling, noting the odd holes that his landing had caused on each floor above. The sound of a child crying had motivated him to get to his feet and realize that the room's warmth was due to the raging fire just outside the door.

The girl hadn't been in much danger from the flames when he found her. She had been inside the tub with the water running, dressed in several layers of clothing that had all been purposely drenched. Someone had tried to save her but he couldn't find anyone else in the apartment.

"D-don't worry, I g-g-got you." He stumbled a bit as he tried to comfort the crying child, tripping over his words at the same time as he tripped over his own feet.

 _Why's this place spinning so much?_

Greg found himself struggling not to throw up from the sudden feeling of nausea that just rolled over him. _My head hurts._

Trying to regain his balance, he held an arm out to the wall to steady himself only for his hand to go right through the crumbling plaster. Burning timber and embers came tumbling down on his outstretched hand, nearly hitting the girl that clung to him.

The little girl's crying reached new heights, the sound reminding him that he had to be careful with his passenger. He was pretty strong and well...she wasn't. "Okay, little girl, m'sorry. M'sorry, I'm going."

Tucking the kid close to his bare chest to protect her from the heat, he began walking again. The protective action had the added benefit of muffling her screams but the unfortunate side effect of making her cling tighter to his arm, making the pain even harder to deal with.

He still couldn't remember exactly what happened to his arm. All he could recall was a red haze and a lot of shouting. Greg knew that the ABB were involved in this somehow. He didn't know exactly how but he guessed one of their crazy bombs did something. He still wasn't completely sure how this whole thing could have turned out so badly. Last he remembered, he was winning the fight.

The only thing he found harder to explain than how some B-level anarchists could have possibly kicked his butt was where he had ended up after the fact. Somehow, he had ended up in freefall, his head feeling like Lung had used it as a speedbag to take out his aggression on. His thoughts had been so slow and he had felt so sluggish, barely being able to understand what was going on. As such, when he had crashed into a burning building, it took him more than a few moments to realize that there was a little girl trapped in there.

It took him a good deal longer to realize that little girls weren't supposed to be in burning buildings.

He wasn't all that proud of that, really.

Greg held his healthy arm out like a football player, slamming apart a burning hunk of wood as he trudged down the apartment building's hallway. He never expected that his dad's constant lectures on football would come in handy but here he was, striking a perfect Heisman pose. It would have been ironic if the moment wasn't so serious.

Flames licked at his back but he didn't even flinch. If anything, the fire was a comfortable heat on his aching muscles. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I really hope no one else is in here,_ he thought frantically as he did his best to avoid falling beams and other obstacles. Greg glanced back at the raging inferno behind him. _I couldn't double back if I fucking wanted to!_

The little girl in his arms was crying and coughing intermittently under the wet cloth he had placed on her head and Greg wondered how much smoke she had inhaled. He wasn't sure how long she had been in the building or how long it had been on fire but he doubted any amount of time in a burning building was healthy for anyone, especially a child. He'd love to get out of the building but finding a way out of here was looking harder and harder.

When every step was a chore and every small movement a burden, keeping his eyes open was a struggle all its own. Quick movement of any kind seemed like an impossible task for him right now. His body was so sluggish and his muscles felt so weak that he was honestly surprised that he could even so much as stand.

His Zirin, the source of energy that normally shone through his skin like gold, felt completely empty. It left him feeling even more drained than he had been after Lung and that was saying something.

Greg stumbled forward again, legs beginning to tremble. He ignored his shaking limbs and took a quick, purposeful step forward only to fall to his knees, gasping for breath.

No, not now.

He looked up to see the outside stairwell on the window at the end of the hallway, the clear sky on the outside almost taunting him. _So close...So close._  
A wave of nausea and vertigo washed over him and he grabbed onto a wall for support, forgetting his strength for a moment.

That proved to be a bad decision.

With a strained groan, the wall gave as soon as he touched it, a heap of burning lumber falling a few feet away of them and blocking their escape route.

"Aiiiiieeeeee!" The girl had left crying behind, now just openly screaming in pain and fear. Her fingers were digging into his exposed skin and bone, forcing hisses of pain from him.

"No! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOO!" Screams of frustration and rage were the only response to the setback that Greg could articulate. Their path to the window was completely blocked off by collapsed timber, the extra fuel creating even more smoke and kicking more ash into the air.

The building was only getting hotter with every passing moment, as more and more oxygen was used up and smoke made it harder to make out anything in his path. Every moment that he forced himself to trudge forward only made him feel worse.

He was a superhero, dammit! Saving people was supposed to be his thing but all he seemed to do was get into fights.

Greg held the little girl tighter and turned a corner, well aware that the window stairwell he had intended as an exit was now a dead-end. Greg dragged himself forward, eyes widening as he saw something that managed to both make him happy and piss him off simultaneously. _Fuck me._

A stairwell door was visible at the end of the hall. On top of the door, in large stenciled letters, was the number eight. Greg stifled a growl at the sight, knowing how long it would take him to make it down at his speed. Eight floors of stairs that he had to take to get the girl down safely. _Fuck!_

Despite his own feelings, Greg knew he didn't have much choice. Unless he could find a garbage chute to slide down, it was this or nothing.

Greg kept on moving towards the door, grunting and groaning like a man four times his age. His limbs felt strangely heavy like blocks of stone and the stiffness in his joints left him feeling very much like a statue. It was the same kind of exhaustion that made someone never want to get up again.

He couldn't do that, though. He had someone to protect. The person in question had paused her screaming to cough her lungs out again and Greg felt horrible that he was thankful about that. Even though her wails had been mostly silenced, he could still feel her trembling in his arms. He had to calm her down. He had to.

"It's o-k-kay…" he choked out. His voice cracked like it hadn't done in over a month, shifting from low to high in the span of a sentence, but he did his best to make his immature voice sound at least somewhat comforting. _Keep her calm. Gotta make sure to keep her calm. Mom always said that you gotta keep calm in an emergency, right? Just keep her calm._

"Hey t-t-there, little girl."

"Hi."

Rubbing the girl's back, he made soft shushing noises and kept moving forward, applying the same methods that his mom used on him. "I'm a hero. My name's Greg. What's y-y-your name?"

"Ch-ch-christina." She tugged the cloth lower on her face, allowing Greg to see her innocent green eyes. Her voice was raspy and she struggled to spit out the words. "M-m-momma calls me T-t-tina. A-a-are you t-taking me to my momma?"

For a moment, Greg struggled. He didn't want to lie to the girl. For all he knew, the woman was still trapped in the building somewhere. By the time he got out there and handed Tina off to a paramedic, her mom could have died from smoke inhalation, debris, or just the fire itself. Greg shook his head, deciding to go with his gut.

"I'm gonna do my best, Tina. She's probably outside there waiting for you right now." Twinges of guilt hit him as his comforting words elicited a small smile from the girl. _I'm such a liar. What am I gonna say when they pull her mom's body out of here? She'll hate me for life!_

 ** _She'll live. To hate you. Because you save her._** A voice responded.

 _I don't want anyone to hate me_ , Greg thought back.

 ** _You want her to die? So you feel good? Not very heroic._**

 _No, no...That's not...I don't want- Wait...I'm talking to myself again. Ridiculous._ Greg ignored his own contradictory thoughts and returned the girl's smile, all the while gently rubbing her back. She was so small, so tiny, so human. She really couldn't have been more than six years old. She needed him to step up, to save her and that's exactly what he was going to do. "Don't worry, Tina. I'm gonna get you out of here, 'kay."

Tina actually returned his smile, her tiny eyes lighting up for the first time since he picked her up. He wanted to avoid her gaze but he found it hard not to smile back at her as he trudged forward. Still, her innocent little eyes looking at him like that after he just lied to her face was something he couldn't deal with.

"Ok-!" The little girl's response was cut off, turning into a shrill scream as another section of the ceiling collapsed in front of them, this time a hail of burning furniture instead of lumber.

"Tina, close your eyes!" After making sure the girl listened, Greg followed his own advice and held an arm up as burning embers and debris rained down on the two of them, swatting away some of the larger debris. As the hail of scrap slowed down, something fell into his outstretched palm. Instead of being hard like the other items he had touched, this had the sensation of being somewhat flaky with a feeling of pliability to it.

Another shrill scream forced him to open his eyes and he got a good look at what he held. In his raised palm hung a head and parts of a neck, skin burnt and blackened by the flames. A charred and headless corpse lay in front of them just a few feet away.

"Holy sh-"

Greg threw the thing away in shock and stared at it in disgust. The skull flew down the hall until it hit a wall, just rolling over to its side. To Greg's dismay, the macabre display didn't end there. Another body, an entire corpse this time, hung from the open hole instead of just falling, its empty burnt sockets facing the two of them. Greg held the girl to his chest tighter preventing her from turning her head to see more but the damage was already done.

"Momma! Momma! Mommaaaaaaa!" Despite the hoarseness of her voice, Tina seemed determined to scream her lungs out. He looked down at her and tried to calm her down the same way he did before but his efforts didn't seem to be getting him anywhere.

Pressed into his chest the way she was, he couldn't see Tina's face but her voice was enough for him to understand how she felt. As scared as she was, he doubted she even heard his words over her own screams. Greg kept moving toward his intended target instead of continuing his attempts to comfort Tina. He walked past the newly fallen body, ignoring the crunch it made as he walked over it on his path to the stairs. A glimpse of one corpse's arm did was a morbid reminder of his own, visible bone and all. Greg shook the thought away and focused his gaze on his objective.

The stairwell door was there, seemingly untouched by the flames that licked at it. It was metal, though. That probably had something to do with it.

Greg grasped the doorknob and twisted it. To his surprise, the door didn't immediately gave way. Another try, somewhat harder this time, showed the door to be just as immovable. "One second, Tina."

Greg put the trembling child down for a moment, trying to use what force he had left to open the door.

 _Come on. Open, you bitch!_ Greg scowled, rage darkening his expression. His eyes flashed red for an instant as the sound of crackling flames was drowned out by a cry of rage. Greg raised a foot and slammed it into the door, the metal crumbling inwards with the force of his blow. He raised it again and another powerful kick made the door bulge. Another intense scream and the thing was sent flying like a missile, hurtling into the stairwell.

That proved to be another bad decision.

From his perspective, roaring flames surged out from the door in slow motion, nearly engulfing the two.

"Shit!"

With speed he didn't think he had left in him, Greg scooped up Tina with one arm and dove out of the way of the red-hot blaze. He lay on the floor for a moment, breathing heavily as sweat ran down his forehead. Tina lay on his chest, screams dying to silent whimpers. The cloth she had worn over head had disappeared, lost in his scramble to get her out of the way. Greg could tell that her breathing was getting shallow, dangerously so. He had to get her out of here.

Greg felt a twinge of anger and self-pity as he looked down at the helpless child on his chest. _She's fucking terrified and I can't even move. I need to get to another stairwell or a window or something! Dammit, why am I so useless?_

Another angered scream burst from his lips and Greg slammed his free arm into a wall, the wood and plaster breaking apart with a noise similar to a tree falling to the ground. The girl's whimpers died, shifting to a stunned silence as she stared at a gaping entrance where there wasn't one before.

Greg let out a tired laugh at her expression as he hauled himself to his feet, Tina in his arms again, and stepped into the apartment. He was incredibly thankful that hadn't backfired on him. "That was...holy sh-", he paused mid-curse to stare at the coughing child clinging to his arm and bare chest. "H-holy shucks, that was just lucky," he rasped out, censoring himself. Tina didn't even let out a whimper.

Incredibly lucky, Greg thought to himself, glancing back at the hole that one angry punch had made. Even as tired as he was, he could still tear down a wall. _Still, that was so fucking stupid of you. The place is coming down and you punch a wall because you're angry? Idiot._

Greg shook his head and looked into the room, a conflicted smile growing on his face as he spotted a window. _I can't jump._

 ** _Why not?_**

 _Tina. I don't know if she could handle the landing._

 ** _That bug girl did._**

Greg grimaced at that, memories of the bug girl bringing forth a bit of disappointment and a great deal of anger. Not only did he not want to be reminded of the villain that he had risked his life to save that then tried to kill him a few days later- **_bitch_** \- , he also didn't want to remember that stupid plan he had come up with while in fight mode. He had done the math on the roof jump stunt he had pulled trying to escape from Lung.

It had taken him a while without Sparky there to help but he had done it. The force that a landing like that had was incredible. If the bug lady wasn't a Brute, the inertia from the landing would have broken her neck.

 ** _She wasn't a Brute. Her power was bugs._**

 _I don't know. She might have had powers that gave her the proportional toughness of a beetle, maybe_

The voice was silent for a moment before responding. **_She didn't feel like a Brute._**

 _Yeah. Her legs were real long and...real soft._

Greg hadn't copped a feel or anything but it was a bridal carry. Things had brushed other things and he hadn't exactly complained when she held him tighter. Okay, he did, but he was enough of a gentleman not to tell her that she sounded screechy.

 _I wonder if it means something that the one girl who I've had physical contact with already wants to murder me._

 ** _Probably._**

Greg snorted at his own mental back and forth as he trudged forward into the room. His bare feet felt the wetness of the wood floor immediately and the sound of rushing water drew his attention toward the sink.

Pots and pans were stacked high in the basin where an open tap gushed water down on them, the counter and most of the apartment, judging by all the water. _I wonder if they did that on purpose 'cause of the fire._

The soaking floor groaned and croaked with every single step he took but he kept moving forward, keeping his eyes firmly on the window. _I guess there's no choice then._

His steps, still jerky and uneven, only seemed to emphasize the unsteadiness of the floor but it couldn't be helped. He couldn't move any faster no matter how hard he strained.

As he reached the center of the room, the groans of the creaking became much more distinct. Greg kept on limping forward, only pausing when the sagging floor literally sank under his feet.

His eyes widened and he tried to jump backward but it was already too late.

With a sound like a tree being torn in half, the floor beneath his feet shattered and fell apart, exposing the inferno that was the floor below. Water fell from the floor, landing on the flames but not doing much to extinguish them.

"No!" Greg followed his instincts and lunged forward reflexively, pulling at something inside him as he did so. Greg screamed as he felt his back tearing open near his shoulder blades, his voice rising in pitch and volume as he felt the once comfortable heat lick at what he could only describe as his uncovered spine. The stabbing pain became unbearable hot knives as he held out one arm and stretched for the jagged ledge in front of him.

His fingers dug into the ledge of damp plaster and wood paneling that made up the floor and Greg nearly fainted, the sudden stop jarring his arm and tearing at his shoulder.

He closed his eyes and screamed, sheer pain overriding everything else.

 _Y-you've got this...st-stay awake, man. C'mon, just close your mouth and hold tight...Do this for her!_

Greg shut his mouth, his jaws clamping down on his tongue. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth but he didn't spit it out, the taste oddly familiar instead of disgusting. _Do it...just do it._

He attempted a one handed pull-up and immediately regretted it. The second he had tensed his muscles, his shoulder had screamed at him for being stupid enough to try. _No...no..no...I can't do it. I can't do it!_

 **Do something.** The voice was back. Goddamn it, he was beginning to hate the voice.

 _Climb down. Just climb down. If I can't go up, I'll just do the opposite._ Greg opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. A wave of exasperation washed over him as he realized that it wasn't just this room's floor that had given way. The floor below him and even the one below that had been completely engulfed in flames, creating a yawning fire pit that stretched down several stories. _Okay. Up, up, up! I'm going up!_

Greg glanced up and saw the open window a few feet away from the ledge. So close.

Despite his struggles to hold on, his right arm couldn't grip tightly enough on the material.

In his other arm, Tina made no noise to signify her discomfort, staying silent despite how jarring all the movement must have been for her. He couldn't help but be thankful for the lack of distraction, as he was completely focused on not losing his grip. Sweat poured down his brow in fat drops and he took deep, gasping breaths. His grip on the ledge was tenuous at best and the fragile building material didn't make it any easier with the way it groaned and creaked.

"Come on!" His voice was little more than a hiss as he spoke through gritted teeth. "Come on!"

The wood shifted and creaked as he worked his muscles, doing his best to pull himself up with only one arm. "I got this! Don't worry, Tina! We're fine! We...ARE...FINE!"

Greg's shout of triumph turned into another scream of pain flared in his arm and he pulled his body up onto the apartment floor with a whimper. That whimper turned into a squeak as he rolled over onto his back, allowing the little girl to roll off his chest and onto his mangled arm.

Greg tried to raise his head and make sure she was alright but he just…

He just couldn't move.

He faced up, staring at the burning ceiling as ashes rained down on his face and embers danced. Everything shifted...

Dancing flames curled across the walls and ceiling…

Embers and ashes floated down like little snowflakes, coating the two of them with a thin sheen of black powder.

 _It's so pretty. Pretty dancing lights._

Greg heard whimpers. He knew where they were from. It didn't matter anyway.

He couldn't, no, he didn't...he definitely didn't want to see what would happen to her.

He knew the basics of being in a fire. His mom had drilled fire safety into his tiny head the day she found him playing with a lighter. He knew better than most adults what would happen.

People didn't really die from the burns, not exactly. They died from the infection that losing all that skin caused or the heat would scorch their lungs, killing them painfully.

Tina had been drenched when he found her in that tub, several layers of wet clothing on her small frame and a big wet rag around her head and face. The heat had been lessened for her. If anything, she would die from the smoke first. It was honestly a miracle she hadn't already.

After the carbon monoxide choked the last breath out of her lungs, the fire would get to her and eventually her light brown skin would turn to charcoal. Even her pretty green eyes would boil to nothing.

 _No...no...Why am I even thinking about that?_

 ** _You can't stop it._**

 _I c-c-can._ Greg closed his eyes, a slow breath making its way out his nostrils as he tried to push the gruesome images out of his mind. Here he was arguing with himself and his own thoughts didn't even sound confident.

 ** _Really?_**

 _Yes, I can,_ he repeated. _I know I can._

 ** _How?_** **_You can't move._**

 _I...I...that's..._ Greg grimaced, unbelieving that he could be so uncaring.

 ** _She's not like us. She'll die in here._**

 _No..._

 ** _Yes._**

He looked up, trying to focus despite how much the room kept spinning. Blinking the ash out of his eyes did nothing to help. All he saw was the dancing flames as they kept spreading.

He had to find a way out of here.

 _How?_

 ** _How?_**

The thought rang twice in his mind. He was trapped on a damp ledge in a burning apartment, a gaping hole straight to hell less than a foot away.

Greg tried to calm his breathing, to try and think, but he just couldn't. _It's not fair, though. I just want to do one good thing and everything keeps going wrong! It's not fair!_

 ** _Life is a fight. There is no fair fight._**

 _ShutupshutupshutupshutupSHUT UP! Why do I even think these things?_ Greg tried to urge the harsh thoughts away, pushing the grim reality out of his mind. Life was hard, though. If life was fair, this kid wouldn't be stuck in here with a second-rate cape who can't even rescue one person. _It's true. I do suck. I can't deny that. It's w-_

Greg halted his stream of thought, ears perking up as he noticed a familiar sound.

His eyes widened.

 _No._

The sound grew even louder, the creaking and groaning of tortured wood drowning out that of the crackling flames.

 _No_.

Cracks spread across the ceiling with every passing second, single lines slowly growing into threatening spiderwebs.

 _No._

The beams seemed to shudder, the stressed wood stretching taught for a moment.

 _Please…_

With the sound of an explosion, the ceiling shattered into dozens of flaming pieces.

 _NO!_

Scooping up the little girl in his arms, he did the only thing he could think of.

He rolled off the ledge.

The charred timber and rushing flames hit his exposed back and he screamed as whatever protection he had from the heat and flames vanished in an instant.

Moments later, something inside him surged and his insides began to burn. The pain spiked.

He bit back the scream that fought to come out. He had to stay strong. He had to.

All the energy he had left in his body, the golden light that made him whatever he was tore its way out from his pores. He screamed again as his entire body began to protest the exit but it didn't stop. A pale glow surrounded him, motes of golden light rising from his skin in a display that could only be described as magical.

It felt torturous.

Flames were diverted away from him, creating a dome of clean air in the middle of smoke and ash.

The first floor he crashed through knocked the wind out of him. Wood and plaster felt as hard as steel as it impacted his barrier.

The second rattled his skull.

He wasn't conscious for the third.


	47. Complications 2-14C

**Complications 2.14C**

Greg didn't remember the exact moment when he realized he was awake.

All he knew was that he didn't think you felt pain in a dream.

That was his first clue.

Lying down here, _wherever here was,_ was all he could really do at first. It was the only thing he could really imagine himself doing that wouldn't make him feel any worse.

He opened his eyes only to quickly jam them shut as pain struck his brain like a fist.

He was wrong. It made him feel much, much worse.

 _A light...t-too…bright..._

A golden light had dazzled his eyes, giving him a headache that he could only compare to eating ice cream much too quickly.

Only without the pleasure of getting to eat any.

"..." He opened his mouth to let out a groan and winced as the only noise to come out of his throat sounded like dry leaves being crushed.

His throat hurt..

Not only that, his head hurt. His brain hurt. His eyeballs hurt.

Hell, even the space between his eyeballs hurt.

How was that even possible? Greg didn't know. All he knew was that it did.

A few moments later, he worked up the will to open a single eyelid.

Then another.

He blinked.

He blinked again, this time in confusion.

The golden light was still there, as bright and migraine inducing as it had been when he had first opened his eyes.

He was lying on his back inside of an...egg?

 _A giant golden egg? That doesn't make sense._

A thought popped into his head and he realized where he had seen this before.  
 _  
My forcefield?_

The same forcefield that he had used to save the bug girl from getting roasted alive by Lung on that rooftop was what encased him now. Except, it wasn't really the same.

Not really, no.

It was...different.

It was just as bright, yes, but much more ethereal. The shield from that day had been a dome of solid golden light, but this...this... _egg?_

This egg seemed to barely be holding itself together, little points of tiny sunlight shining much brighter than the rest.

Greg raised a single hand and flinched as his muscle twitched in resistance, stinging pains spreading up his arm. Wincing in pain, he shut his eyes once again and he hurled curses inside his head at nothing and no one. His arm continued to convulse painfully, revolting against any of his attempts to control it.

 _Holy...sh...FUCK!_

Slowly, the pain began to fade and Greg opened his eyes once again. He looked up again the residual pain was quickly forgotten in lieu of confusion.

 _Wha...where...where did it go?_

The egg had vanished.

In between the time it took to close his eyes and open them, the golden light had disappeared and Greg slowly found himself wondering if it was ever there at all. Why would he be hallucinating about giant eggs? What did that have to do with anything? Where was he anyway?

A feeling of weight on his chest distracted him from those questions and he looked down.

A little girl lay on his sternum, almost completely covered in ash just like he was.  
What was going on here? His eyes roamed over her tiny, soot-covered body. Curly hair tied in pigtails and a long shirt that may have once been pink were her only real identifiers. Even her skin color was impossible to tell, obscured by the dark dust that coated her.

 _The girl…_

The girl was familiar.

Her name…

Her name…T...Tammy...Toni? Tasha...T...

 _Tina?  
_  
That was it!

 _Tina! Tina!_

Greg remembered what his purpose had been, the girl's name acting as a key to the puzzle. In an instant, confusion gave way to realization which then gave way to worry.

"Tina! C'mon, Tina!" The first words from his lips were cracked and hoarse, his mouth already dry in the choking heat of the room.

She wasn't moving. He didn't think she was even breathing.

"Tina!" His voice was choked and raspy, courtesy of the heat of the room. "Tina, please wake up!"

He tried to get up, only to fall back to the floor groaning in pain.

In his worry, he had forgotten just how much his body...hurt.

All of him felt like it had been torn apart and mutilated and then hurriedly put back together. His nerves screamed with pain. Both arms, both legs, he couldn't move either of them. Every moment was agony and Greg filled his thoughts with screaming and cursing as he tried to fight it.

His veins were filled with lava and they screamed as he tried to move, setting his muscles into painful spasms. His body shook without reason, the movement only worsening the pain. Something inside him was missing and his body screamed for it. Something was missing.

He didn't know what...but he needed it.

He needed...

He...

He...needed to sleep.

Yeah, rest was all he needed.

 **Get up.**

Sleep would let him recover. A few hours, that's all he needed.

 **Get up.**

Darkness began encroaching on his vision and he knew that'd it be so much easier to just give in and let himself rest. He remembered fire was spreading around the two of them, dancing around the circle his landing had caused.

He just wanted to rest.

It was easier to let it happen.

Easier than moving.

 _So..so..tired..._

 **Get up.**

Easier than fighting.

 _So much...easier..._

 **Easy is weak.**

Just a little bit of sleep.

 **Get up.**

Greg coughed, his lungs rattling painfully with the action. Something warm and moist dripped from his nostril and spilled onto his lips.

 **Get up.**

More blood rushed from his nose and spilled into his mouth. He gagged at the taste, his coughing fit giving way to choking.

 _Please...just...let..._

 **I̴̷̻̟̭̻̩͚͇͙̣̱͕̱̭̪̫̘̭͡ͅ ͉̺͙͇͔̜̕s҉̳͈̺͓̘̺̫a̷̷̷͇͓̭̩̺̜̭̟͟i̷̡̧͔͖͓͇̳͇͓̙͘͞d̴̷̳̲̦͓̯͉̦̥͇̣̪͎̬̳͈͘͡͡.**

 **̡͝҉̧̛̠̙̖͓͚̭̙̗ͅ**

 **̶̜̘͖̫̣̘̫͙͉̩̜̕͞G͞͏̺̭̘̙̩̙͚̻̻̣Ę̶̵̢̙͇̖̭̦͈͙͢T̷̡̢̨͏̞͉̳̹̦ ̧̛͓̦̰͙̺͖̲̀͟͠Ų̴̵̶̱̦̫̙̼̳̲̻͙̤̗̯̼̹͚́P̧̗̯̦̟͙̻̬̙̮̻̭͓͉̯͕̀ͅͅ!̥̟͇̠̼͇͖͔͇̪̠͖̦̻̕̕͢͟ͅͅ**

A wave of nausea rocked him and his vision blurred.

Screaming.

Crying.

Pain...he didn't understand.

Flames danced on his skin, jumping and skittering all over him.

It tickled.

He laughed as pain lanced through his skull, giggling even as more warm fluid made its way past his lips.

It felt so good.

He dropped to the ground, the bloody fingers and exposed bone of one hand cracking the warm marble floor.

Screaming...he heard screaming.

Somebody was screaming.

The girl in his other hand...she was asleep.

How was she screaming?

How was she awake?

 **M̸̈ͣ̐ͩ̂͛ͫ̅͋͒͂ͥ̑̚͟͏̶̵̩͉̺̖Ǒ̸̡̠̩͙̠̺̳̠̙̳͖̦̑͐͛̓͐ͧ̌̚͜͜V̡̪̫̥̗̱̏ͮ̂̓ͫ̓̍̂͒͆̎́ͅĘ̶ͧͩ͋͗̆̽̒̃͜͏̗̤̥͖͖̺**

His nose was wet...

His mouth was wet...

He tasted…

He tasted red.

Red dripped down his chest.

His hands...

So red...

So much...red...

 **MOVE.**

He didn't fight the voice this time.

He moved until he found resistance.

Something was in his way.

He ignored it.

"...nazi...pigs...on the run-"

Screaming…

"...message...Kaiser…"

Someone was screaming.

"...bullet to the head."

His vision changed again.

No more dancing fire...no more pretty lights...

Everything was so dull...so ugly.

"...fuck are you?"

He looked up.

Eight ugly things looked back at him.

Two were on their knees and the others stood over them, black things in their fragile hands.

All of them had disgusting markings on their skin and ugly deformed bodies.

None of them had the light. None of them shone.

None of them were like _him._

It was disgusting.

One of them pointed something at him. It made a cracking noise.

He felt a light tap on his cheek.

"Holy s-"

He blinked.

A hand gripped the thing's jaw before it could finish. He saw into its mouth, tongue flapping free of an enclosure.

Dirty blood flew. It stained his hands. It stained his face. It tasted bitter.

 **Disgusting.**

More taps on his back.

More of them.

There was a roar, loud and guttural, and they froze in their tracks.

He blinked.

An arm was in his hand. Skin and muscle flew off the bone. It crumpled.

 **Weak.**

His hand twitched. Two heads fell to the ground. The things thrashed as they spurted blood.

One tried to run. He moved in front of it and it screamed. The thing fell apart with a touch, scattering its filth all over.

The last one fell to its knees, like the other.

Screaming.

Shouting.

Crying.

Begging.

He didn't understand the words.

It fell to the ground, it's torso missing.

"Holy fuck, kid. That w-"

"Donny, don't...don't…"

Two more.

"Donny, please...I'm beggin' you."

"Jen, relax. He fuckin' saved us."

One moved closer, holding it's flimsy, disgusting limbs above it's misshapen head.

The other hung back, it's face wet and black fluid running down it's face.

"Hey, thanks for that. You saved our asses, kid."

It tried to speak, going so far as to make sounds but nothing made sense to him.

There was a sound...like an animal.

"H-hey, man. I'm with you."

"Donny, get the fuck away!"

"S-shut up, Jen. I-i got this!"

 **Impure.**

He tensed, the ground cracking beneath him as he took a single step.

"Oh god…"

"Fuck! Donny, run!"

Everything shifted.

He was spinning again.

He blinked, his vision filled with a dark surface made damp with warm liquid.

His hands- both of them; a puddle of red, pink and gray-

 _The girl…_

Where was the girl?

 _"Tina?"_

He couldn't-  
 _  
"Tina, where are you?"_

Moving shapes in front of him-

"What's he saying?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?"

He blinked and looked up.

Two shapes.

One of them...holding something.

 _Tina? Little girl?_

He blinked again.

Everything...everything was going so dark.

Why...why couldn't he see?

"Jen, we gotta help…"

"Fuck help! I'm runnin'!"

 _Help?_

Help. He needed...

"Kid…"

 _Help._

"Kid…can you...!"

"Donny!"

 _Help._

"Kid! Kid! Stay with me, kid!"

 _Help me._


	48. Interlude 2k: Max Anders (Kaiser)

Interlude: Max Anders (Kaiser)

The room was dark, almost pitch-black. The only thing preventing the darkness from being absolute was the dull light emanating from a laptop resting on top of a sturdy metal desk. It was also the only thing preventing it from being completely silent, as well.

"It was a joke, man! I'm not-I'm not even with these guys! It was a j-"

Although, complete silence and darkness may have been preferable to the gruesome footage being played.

"I got kids! Please! Please, please, ple-"

On the screen before him, Max Anders watched carefully as man after man met a brutal end, killed so quickly most didn't even have time to finish a sentence. His lips were set in a distasteful frown as the grisly scenes continued to play out in front of him. Oddly enough, it wasn't the killing itself that put him off. Nor was the brutality of the deaths the cause of his disdain. He had personally executed more than a few enemies in his time and he was sure that his methods would be considered almost as brutal.

No, the real issue that Max had with the footage in front of him was the mindset the hooded killer seemed to possess. It was almost unnoticeable at first, but after repeated viewings, he could see a very clear pattern in their actions.

The cape didn't just kill. He hunted, stalked, preyed, whatever you chose to call it...it didn't change the fact that he toyed with his victims. The entire thing seemed like it was little more than a game to him. Stretching out a kill in order to terrify a victim was not Max's idea of a good time. Frankly, it was almost childish. As Max, there were many ways that his methods of execution could be described. He very much doubted that a steel spike through the chest could be considered as either "drawn-out" or "childish".

Turning his thoughts back to the video, Max let out a slow breath as the quality began to fade again and the sounds of heavy breathing almost drowned out everything else. Whoever had been behind the camera most likely ran before the cape could turn their attention to them. And just like that, the video ended almost as abruptly as it began.

With a quick use of the touchpad and a few deft keystrokes, the video began to replay itself from the beginning once again.

It began as it always did, with the sounds of heavy breathing, gunshots, screaming and roaring flames. The screen was black at first, with nothing more than quick flashes of light and sound to show that anything was happening. The video on the computer screen could best be described as shaky and amateurish and that was even without getting into the image quality itself.

The unsteady hand of the person recording this only made the terrible quality of the camera more apparent. Still, he didn't mind all that much. It captured enough to satisfy his curiosity. After a few short seconds of shaky camera movement, the quality stabilized and the camera caught sight of the first victim.

A charred corpse lay sprawled on sizzling asphalt without its head. It was only one of many. Along the ground, scattered among the decapitated and burning corpses, lay numerous bits of partially melted metal that could easily be identified as bullets. The view shifted rapidly, spinning around multiple times before finally stopping on one standing target, allowing Max to catch the first view of the murderous cape. With a quick press of the spacebar, the video paused.

 _How...peculiar._ Max's first thought upon seeing the cape again was still the same as it had been the last few times he had watched this video.

While the cape could not be seen from the front, his body was angled in such a way that the camera still caught glimpses of him despite the lack of adequate lighting. His face was covered with a dark hood but that was of little importance. Appearance-wise, he appeared rather young, with a body that made him appear as if he was not even past puberty. He had the body of a young man and his frame was rather thin, almost anorexic. His thin frame was not helped by the stark paleness of his skin and the torn and ragged clothing that he wore, a combination that made him appear rather skeletal.

Yet, the only thing about him that really caught Max's interest was the boy's power. Or, at least what he assumed was his power. The paused video did not allow him to catch every detail but Max could still see the boy's hands. Snow white skin abruptly gave way to bulging muscle, crisscrossing his forearms in a revolting patchwork of black and red veins. Below that, his hands were much more of a solid color, a thick layer of obsidian material leaving his hands looking more like the claws of an animal than anything else.

With another press of the spacebar, the video resumed. As Max expected, the sound of gunfire rang out again and bullets hit the wall directly behind where the cape had stood. They would have struck him but he had already disappeared from his former position.

Despite the fact that he had seen it happen before, Max still felt surprised at how quickly the young cape vanished from the screen. He wasn't exactly sure how. _What kind of Mover ability could that be? Teleportation? Speed, maybe?_ Whatever it actually was, the ability was nearly undetectable, making no sort of noise or light in its wake. If he hadn't been watching closely and hadn't seen the footage before, he would have assumed that the video had skipped forward somehow. Regardless, it only made him more dangerous.

The moment the cape disappeared, the person behind the camera let out a string of hushed curses and the camera swung around rapidly several times before catching sight of the cape once again.

Several yards away, twenty men armed with pistols all let out screams and varying shouts as the cape appeared right next to them. They had obviously thought themselves safe where they were, hunkered behind several cars. They were quite obviously mistaken.

Before they could even raise their weapons, the cape had already grabbed the closest man around the neck. In a flash of red light, the man's body burst into flames before he could even scream in pain. The cape's other hand blurred and the man's flaming head went soaring, removed from his body with what must have been little more than a flick of the wrist.

The cape took a single slow step forward and dropped the man's burning body at his feet. While the camera only saw his back, Max could see the cape tilt his head quizzically, almost as if asking the men a question.

After a moment of hesitation, the men reacted the only way they could. Almost in unison, they raised their guns to face the cape and opened fire. The cape moved faster than any normal human could ever hope to, forearms glowing a dark red once again. The closest shooter fell in an instant, his lower body landing several feet away from the rest of him. Not even pausing, he leapt to the next man, severing his hand at the shoulder and sending steaming hot blood flying into the cold night air. He didn't even give the man a chance to scream before his hand blurred again. Like several of the man's friends, his already charred skull hit the ground before the rest of his body.

The cape moved again, blurring out of sight and back into view faster than the camera could keep up with, leaving behind charred bodies, some of them without their heads, in his wake. As man after man fell, Max had to conclude that his Mover ability was speed-related as opposed to teleportation or something similar. He wasn't sure if that would make this cape harder to deal with. Both had their own drawbacks.

 _Although, I'm struggling to see what the connection happens to be with his powers,_ thought Max. _I suppose that he could be another one of those capes with multiple powers, but a Brute, Mover, Blaster and Striker rating would be hard enough to deal with on four separate capes. The fact that they seem to be so strong even when combined onl-_

"S-stay b-b-back!"

Max found his attention jarred away from his thoughts as one of the men in the video let out a scream.

"I-I said, stay b-"

The cape didn't even let him finish speaking, delivering a crushing kick to the man's jaw in less time than it took the man to fully form the word. Blood, bone, and brain matter went flying as the cape's foot showed exactly how much stronger it was than the man's skull.

The slaughter continued along the same brutal and grisly vein, with the cape at one point using nothing but his teeth to rip open three of the men's necks, until there was only one man left standing.

Openly trembling at this point, the man stood in one place, gun still in hand, as the cape simply watched him from several feet away.

"J-just let me g-go", the man pleaded, his voice trembling as much as the rest of him. "P-p-please…"

The cape took a single step forward, allowing Max to see his head shaking in response to the man's pleading.

Almost as if he had expected the negative answer, the man gulped and began to raise the pistol to his shaven head, as if in preparation to end his own life. In the blink of an eye, the cape was in front of him, intent on finishing the man before he could kill himself. In one smooth movement, the man twisted the gun to face the cape, pulling the trigger three times. All the rounds struck the young cape directly in the forehead, each and every bullet an almost guaranteed kill shot.

A vicious smile appeared on the man's face for a moment, only for it to vanish just as quickly as he realized that the blood and brain matter on the cape's clothing was not his own. He stepped back, the empty gun falling from his hands, as a look of horror made its way onto his face.

"W-what...what the fuck are you?"

The cape didn't answer, simply wrapping one glowing hand around the taller man's neck. The man let out pained gasps as he tried to catch his breath, fighting pathetically against the powerful grip that held him.

"Somebody help...ughhhh! So...some...hel...please...hel…"

Slower than all the others, the man began to burn. It started from his neck, an odd shifting pattern of black markings branching out. As the markings began to spread and his skin began to darken, the man let out one more scream before the light faded from his eyes and his body burst fully into flames.

Letting the man's body fall like all the others, the cape threw his hood back, finally exposing his face. Max tapped the spacebar again and the video paused, the video frozen directly on the cape's face.

Black leather-covered hands folded together, the clasped digits coming to rest below Max's chin as he began to study the blurry, and somewhat pixelated, image. Like his hands, the cape's face was completely covered in the same scarlet, flame-like energy. While it was certainly intimidating, it also did a spectacular job of concealing his identity.

Max shook his head slowly and leaned back in his chair, thinking back to the video he just watched, specifically the men who the cape so brutally murdered.

While the majority of the others were just drunk criminals, too pathetic to even pass Hookwolf's relatively lenient initiation ritual, a few were actual legitimate members of the Empire and the last man killed by the cape was one of his own employees at MedHall, ' _was'_ being the operative term in this case. Seeing as his remains were charbroiled to a crisp, Max doubted he'd be back to work anytime soon.

The man was a simple warehouse grunt, one of the E88 members that both Hookwolf and Krieg considered stupid enough to not succeed in any type of theft from the company while simultaneously smart enough to understand what the consequences would be if there was such an attempt. Obtaining such a happy medium wasn't hard per se, but finding one without undergoing a method of trial and error wasn't the most efficient process. Career criminals and Neo-Nazi gangsters did not make up the best hiring pool, after all.

Losing a warehouse grunt was not the worst thing that could have happened. That wasn't to say that his operations wouldn't feel the loss. It would only be more of a hassle to find another one. Letting out another sigh, Max had to wonder what the future held for this city.

Watching this footage again only confirmed his thoughts. Things were really changing in Brockton Bay.

It had been over a month since several of his men had been torn apart by the cape in the footage. With the bursts of speed, strength, and the use of fire, he honestly came off as something that seemed like the bastard child of Lung and Battery. Whoever this cape was, they had gone so far as to murder his men, although he doubted they were aware which of those men were his.

This incident had led to increased tensions between the E88 and ABB for some insane reason. Loathe as he was to admit it, most of the people in the Empire were not the brightest and somehow, they had latched on to the idea that the ABB had something to do with the incident. It certainly didn't help that some idiots had created false accounts for him and Lung on PHO, fueling the anger on both sides with the nonsense they posted for all to see.

Frankly, a war had been brewing in Brockton Bay for quite some time, especially between the ABB and the Empire. While the Merchants possessed a decent number of capes, they were content to sell drugs and follow the general trappings of a street gang. The ABB, for all their lack of subtlety, had vision. In the same manner as the extinct Japanese Yakuza and the defunct Chinese Triads, the ABB wished to create a power base that would last decades at the very least, carving out their own criminal empire that would spread across the entire country.

Max could respect that sort of ambition. He didn't have to like it, of course, but he could respect it. In the past, there had been those who held that same sort of vision in Brockton Bay, the same sort of vision that would have them clash with the Empire. Against Allfather and his beloved Iron Rain, they stood no real chance. The firepower that his father and sister possessed would have been vital in warding off Lung and preventing the ABB from becoming a major player against the Empire. Unfortunately, or rather, fortunately - it all depended on who you asked - Allfather and Iron Rain were no more. Yet, the grand vision Allfather had of a city completely under his rule still lived on in him. All that stood in his way was the godforsaken Azn Bad Boys.

 _Although,_ thought Max with a devious smile, _I doubt the ABB is going to remain a major player for much longer._ Tapping the keyboard again, he brought up a picture of a ragged looking teenage boy with a haircut that made him look like an extra in some post-apocalyptic B-movie. _And I know just who to thank for that._

If it wasn't for Greg, things might have gone much more differently on Monday night. His godson had burst onto the warring stage that was Brockton Bay and utterly shattered the ABB's growing power structure by taking out Lung. In doing so, the boy had unintentionally made the PRT look weak for not doing it themselves while performing an impressive job tarnishing Armsmaster's reputation.

The fact that Greg had been so quick to join up with MedHall only made the situation sweeter. While he regretted having to lie so openly to Susan, the fact remained that he now had a proverbial attack dog in the form of his godson. Lung was in custody at the PRT, meaning that the ABB was down to two capes, Oni Lee, and the suspected Tinker responsible for the bombing at Cornell. The insane decision that the ABB had made to escalate their rioting had only served to seal their fate. With their actions being so visible, the PRT would likely make them their highest priority. All in all, Max doubted it would take too long before the ABB vanished completely.

 _And from there, the Empire will expand even fu-_

 **Knock-knock-knock.**

The sound of someone striking their knuckles on his steel-plated door shook him from his thoughts.

 _Now, what could this nonsense be about?_ Max thought to himself as he slowly lifted himself up from the comfortable embrace of his expensive leather chair. A quick movement of his foot flipped a switch hidden on the side of his desk and a single light came on, providing some illumination to the dark room. With one hand, he closed the laptop while the other undid his tie, unraveling the silk material and laying it on the back of his chair. He repeated the action with the jacket of his suit, carefully placing it in order to avoid any wrinkles. His black leather gloves came off next, exposing pale, manicured fingers.

Stepping forward, Max placed those same immaculate hands down on the cool metal of his desk, fists clenched. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating harder than he had in a long time. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the bright flash of light emanating from the table and then…

He felt it.

The soft prickling of the usually solid material as it latched onto his fists, expanding as it made its way up his forearms like some kind of living creature, was a rather odd sensation. Max doubted that he would be able to give any sort of reasonable description as to how it really felt. Needless to say, it wasn't entirely pleasant.

He wouldn't lie and say it didn't sting when the oddly pliant metal curled around his nether regions, or tightened around his neck. It was something that he had to get used to.

The entire process took no more than five seconds. They felt more like minutes.

Opening his eyes, he smiled as he took a look at himself, or rather, what covered him. His suit of armor was perfection, as always. In fact, it was slightly more perfect than before, if such a thing could be possible. His gauntlets were a bright, lustrous color, more reminiscent of polished silver than the stainless steel his armor used to be, and the spikes that emanated from the side were curved in such a way that he doubted he'd have much trouble tearing the throat of any ABB that dared get close to him. He couldn't deny that he quite liked it.

Turning to face the single mirror at the end of the office, he saw his body as a whole, noting how the metal had formed intricate designs all the way down to the greaves of his armor, seemingly of Teutonic and Odinistic origin. His crown was, for once, perfectly symmetrical as it sat upon his visored helm; giving him a regal bearing that his former uneven crowns could never really match. Gone were the excessive blades and unneeded spikes of his old armor, what he wore now was much more streamlined and less bulky, while still bearing the same protectiveness and intimidating regal quality.

Maximus Anders belonged in an office. His only weapons were words and money and his armor was tailored clothing and an army of lawyers. Kaiser, on the other hand, belonged on the battlefield and on the throne, fighting with steel and iron, while armoring himself with the same.

Looking his armored form over in the mirror, Kaiser found himself nodding with silent approval. _Just like last time. A quicker, smoother change into this armor. Strange..._

Just as the design of Kaiser's suit had changed, so had the very nature of his power. He had noticed it just the day before, albeit that had been under rather different circumstances. An attempt to grow a new blade on his dulling letter opener had left him holding what could best be described as a dagger made of wrought steel. It had been so quick he hadn't even realized what he held until the blade had been dangerously close to his face. More attempts at testing his power had left him with odd conclusions, some he wasn't sure how to deal with. Regardless, the odd quickness and intuitiveness of his altered abilities was something he was still struggling with.

 _What I struggle to understand,_ thought Kaiser, _what exactly brought on these changes in the fir-_

 **Knock-knock-knock.**

 _Again with the interruptions!_

Stepping toward the steel door, Kaiser slid open the grille, a small sort of hatch that stood at eye level, and stared into the masked face of Krieg.

"Krieg", began Kaiser, his voice taking on the hollow rumble it did once he was in his armor, "I assume you have a good reason for disturbing me?"

Krieg nodded, his face set in its normal serene expression. "I received a message from one of the newer recruits, a couple. It appears that they've found something that belongs to you."

Underneath his helm, Kaiser raised an eyebrow. "Something that belongs to me?"

"Was I mistaken, sir?" Krieg raised his hand, displaying the screen of his phone to his leader. The image of an unconscious blond boy covered in blood and open wounds stared back at Kaiser and his confused expression slowly changed into one of interest.

"No, Krieg, I don't believe you are..."

 **ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ**

When Greg came to, the very first thing he felt was a burning pain. It resounded deep in his chest, throbbing and pounding with the same rhythm as his heart. Whatever it was, it hurt.

Still, it wasn't the worst pain.

A few seconds later, it seemed to die down, the flame-like sensation in his chest dimming to what he could compare to a mild heartburn.

 _I'm pretty sure I've never had heartburn in the first place. How would I know?_

"Ugggh...:" Greg let out a hoarse groan only to stop when he heard the sound of his own voice. _God, I sound like a zombie._

As some of his higher brain function made its way back to him, Greg began to realize a few important things.

First, he seemed to be lying on something rather soft, but not all that cozy. By the way his body seemed to be pulling the material down and the metal he could feel at the sides of it, he'd assume it was a cot. He hated cots.

Second, he somehow seemed to have acquired a change of clothing, given that he did not remember putting on a pair of sweatpants this morning. Third...wherever he was, he was not alone.

Forcing his eyes open, Greg jumped to his feet, ignoring the surge of burning pain in his chest as his body moved so suddenly.

The first thing he saw was a knight-like figure in shining armor sitting calmly upon a throne across the room, a crown of blades on his head. Next to the knight was an angel of light, her glowing eyes fixed firmly on his position. A third figure stood on the other side, a bipedal wolf that glistened almost as brightly as the silver night.

 _Kaiser. Purity. Hookwolf._

Others were there but Greg paid them no mind.

All he knew was that he was surrounded and outnumbered by the Empire 88, a murderous gang of Hitler-loving Neo-Nazis that had been around even before his mother was born.

 _What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?_ Greg's mind ran with several options that he could take, all of them more ridiculous and unlikely to work than the last.

Silence hung in the room as the villains stared at him, obviously expecting him to say something. He simply stared back.

"Hello, Mr. Veder. I've heard a great deal about you. It's rather nice to finally meet you. Now, before we begin, I must ask…do you prefer Superior?" Kaiser spoke first, his hollow rumble of a voice carrying across the room with ease.

A reasonable person with a good head on their shoulders would answered the question. A more relaxed person would have responded with a joke, perhaps, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Frankly, Greg was neither of those. No, his response was much more...unconventional.

Reaching for the closest item, Greg hurled it as hard as he could, directly towards the villains. The second he did so, his brain caught up to him and his eyes widened as he suddenly realized that he had thrown a cot at the most dangerous gang in Brockton Bay.

 _Fuck..._


	49. Complications 2-15

Sorry for the delay. Kinda kept some people waiting, I guess.

 **Complications 2.15**

* * *

 _Why did I do that? Why did I think that would be a good idea? Why?_

The bed that Greg had used as a projectile against the E88 had failed to reach the targets at the other end of the warehouse floor, falling to the ground in a pathetic heap.

The cot had actually landed a few feet from Purity's heels and by her expression, she clearly didn't appreciate his actions. Even with her sclera glowing brighter than a halogen lamp, she still managed to convey the same look of disdain that he had seen many times on girls at least half her age. To add insult to injury, Hookwolf even seemed to be laughing at him.

At least, Greg assumed that god-awful grinding noise was some sort of laughter. For all he knew, that could also be how Hookwolf growled, if the metallic man-wolf did so at all. The fact that his face in wolf form seemed to be in a form of rictus didn't exactly help Greg discern exactly what his expression meant.

That didn't really matter, though. Greg's eyes shifted back and forth between the cot on the floor and the villains across from him.

 _Why aren't they doing anything?_

Truthfully, Greg didn't know. In any other circumstance, he would have expected to be at least unconscious by now. He had made the first move, after all.

Yet, it was as if he hadn't done a thing.

Of course, there had been some movement. For a moment, he had seen Hookwolf's body ripple, Purity's eyes and hair shine brighter and Krieg...well, Krieg didn't really do anything obvious, but his stance shifted a bit. At least, Greg thought so.

Kaiser hadn't so much as shifted from his regal position on the oddly sharp-looking throne he sat on, his helmet hiding any sort of expression from Greg's eyes. Krieg hadn't really done anything either but he looked intimidating and Greg figured that, was basically his job anyway.

The silence in the room was deafening and, to be honest, Greg wasn't really sure how long it had been going on for but he wanted it gone.

He took a breath and spoke.

"...Uhhh, hi."

Greg winced as he spoke, his throat burning as he formed the words. In response, Kaiser turned to face him directly, the knight giving a slight tilt of the head as if telling him to continue.

Swallowing his doubts, Greg spoke again. "Uhhh, that", he continued hoarsely, pointing towards the broken frame of the cot just a few scant feet from Kaiser's throne, " that was an accident...yeah."

The metallic grinding noise from Hookwolf seemed to increase in volume ever so slightly at his less than stellar attempt at easing the tension. Once again, Greg wasn't sure if that was growling or laughter.

Almost immediately, the noise halted, and as Greg noticed Kaiser's raised palm, he understood why. For a few moments more, there was silence, and then, Kaiser spoke.

"Trust me, Mr. Veder," Greg felt himself jump slightly as Kaiser's hollow rumble made itself heard again, "it is apparent to all of us, Hookwolf in particular, that your reaction to my greeting was...unintended. There's no need to dwell on the issue."

Greg nodded at the armored cape's words, simply glad that the man wasn't angry at him.

"However, as it was an accident, it is only appropriate that an apology follow it. Am I wrong?" Kaiser asked the question much the same way a teacher or parent would, with the feeling that wrong answers would be met with punishment.

"Uhhh, no?" Greg ventured.

At Kaiser's nod, he winced.

Was he really supposed to apologize? They were villains. Heroes weren't supposed to apologize to villains, right?

Although, heroes were good guys and good guys had to set an example and be the bigger person. Wasn't that what heroes did?

Greg supposed it was. Still, he resolved to make this moment as quick and painless as possible.

"...uh, I'm sorry for...uh, you know, throwing the bed...thing. I was kinda...startled when I woke up...here." God, it felt like pulling teeth.

It didn't help that Hookwolf started to make that grinding noise again.

"Thank you for that, Mr. Veder. Respect is always appreciated."

"You're welcome." On second thought, he'd rather they have beat him up instead. Simply having to apologize to a group of villains made his stomach turn in much the same way it did when he was forced to apologize to his father for "making him angry." Forcing his face not to fall into a scowl, Greg kept a smile on his face as he decided to tackle the big question.

"So, uhhh…K-kaiser," Greg's tongue stumbled on the name as it came out, giving his already hoarse voice an additional awkward tone, "how did I...you know…"

Greg raised a hand to gesture to the warehouse walls surrounding them. "How did I get...here? Wherever here is."

"You don't remember?"

Greg frowned. _A question for a question, why do people do that? It's so annoying. Hold up...why don't I remember? What...wait...what happened?_

Greg raised a hand to his head as a throbbing sensation began to make its presence known. What had happened? _I had...I had lunch with Sparky...yeah...and then...and then…_

 _Ugh...do I have a headache now?_ Both his hands found their way to his head, tightly gripping what remained of his hair.

 _There was a call...the Trainyard...riot…what happened?_ One hand let go of his hair and slid down to his cheek, coming away with a slightly sticky feel. He stared at the red smear all over his arm, suddenly aware of how wet his face and chest felt. _So much blood..._

Greg felt himself lurching over, closing his eyes as a wave of nausea hit him. He couldn't remember. _There were riots and then everything was...was...fire._

Bile rose up in his throat and he gagged, the taste of vomit just grazing his taste buds. The sound of retching turned to gasps as a memory surfaced.

The girl…the girl…

Greg's eyes snapped open and his arms fell to his sides as his mouth silently formed the words. _The girl._

"Mr. Veder?"

His head jerked upwards, dazed eyes focused on Kaiser. For the first time since waking up, Greg was hit with the grim reality of where he was.

"Where...where is she?"

"Pardon?"

Greg grit his teeth, glaring intensely at the armored cape. The last thing he could remember was holding the little girl as the burning building fell to pieces around them. Next thing he knew, he woke up in a drafty warehouse, surrounded by neo-Nazi supervillains.

Now, the little girl was missing.

 _The little bi-racial girl._

"The girl...the girl…"

This was his fault. He was supposed to be a hero. He had promised…

 _I promised her that she would see her mom and now...now…_

He couldn't let the thought enter his head. This was the E88. What could they…

 _No. I can't think about it…_

Greg shook his head furiously and stepped forward. "Where is she?" A grimace appeared on his face as he heard his voice fail completely at conveying any anger at all. Despite the burning ache in his throat, he forced himself to shout. "The girl! Where. Is. She?"

"I'd like to assist you, Mr. Veder." Kaiser, whether intentionally or not, seemed not to notice the tension in the air and the fact that his nonchalant attitude was not helping to diffuse any of it. "To be honest, I really would. You seem like a nice young man with his...priorities in the right place. A bit lacking when it comes to finesse, but no one's perfect."

 _Is he actually doing this right now?_ Greg was sure that Kaiser was playing with him, basically mocking him, and the patronizing tone his words took only seemed to drive that feeling deeper into Greg's mind.

"Yet, you seem to have a problem with manners." Greg's eyes narrowed as Kaiser's words took on a chiding tone. "I had you brought here, out of the kindness of my own heart, because I wasn't eager to see a child die.

"Not only that, Othala," Greg followed the direction of Kaiser's outstretched hand as he gestured to the female cape wearing an eyepatch, "kindly healed you at my request. You woke up, clothed, and unharmed. Not a single word of thanks. You then attempted to attack me and I graciously decided to ignore the attempt on my life. Now, you disrespect me in front of my own." The knight shook his head slowly. "Shameful."

Greg's frown only deepened. The idea that a villain was going to try and lecture him was insane. A villain? No, he was a Nazi villain. Who knows what he had done? Greg felt another twinge of anger as he thought of what might have happened to the girl he had been protecting.

 _That's it! I don't care how tired I am. He's going to tell me what they did to her or I'm gonna beat it out of him!_ Greg felt that odd reserve of energy being pulled and for a second, he felt all his aches and pains slip away.

A second later, the burning feeling blossomed out from his chest and a sensation similar to pins and needles spread out over his entire body. He felt drained and sore all over, almost as if he had simultaneously torn every muscle in his body. Greg resisted the desire to curl in on himself, instead standing still and doing his best to listen as Kaiser spoke.

"I'm willing to be a courteous host and see past all that, Mr. Veder. As I said before, I'd like to help you. The problem remains that I simply have no idea who you are referring to."

Still reeling from the sudden crash, Greg tried to blink away the haze of tiredness as he tried to make sense of Kaiser's sensation of sweat coating his brow and mixing with the blood on his face only made him feel worse. _What? How...how does he not now?_

Greg stared at the knight, eyes slowly blinking as he tried to keep himself upright. His eyes lazily drifted from left to right, passing over the three capes that served as Kaiser's lieutenants.

Hookwolf stared back at him with the same grimace that his mask was fixed in, expression imperceptible as ever. Purity's hair and eyes glowed far too brightly for him to even make out what she looked like.

Krieg, though, was a different case altogether. All he wore on his face was a simple domino mask and some dark makeup around his eyes. The man didn't look back at Greg with any malice or anger in his expression. If anything, he looked a bit disinterested.

None of them, not Othala, not Krieg, Fenja or Menja...None of them seemed angry, or even slightly malicious. In fact, they almost seemed expectant, like they were waiting for something. Whatever it was, Greg didn't know and frankly, he didn't care. He only had one priority and right now, she was missing.

 _I need their help._

"The...the girl", Greg paused, taking a gulp of dry air, "I..I had a girl with me...a little girl. There was a fire...and I saved her and...and…"

Just like trying to remember what happened before, trying to remember what happened after the girl was torturous. "Look, I...I don't really know what happened after that but...there was this little girl...I saved her and I promised I'd get her out. I...need to find her. It's important."

It was important. Important that he find her and save her life and important that he prove that he could actually save someone. Important enough that he would ask a Nazi for help.

He grit his teeth. "Please...help me find her."

Shouts of protest echoed loudly inside his head but they were quickly ignored. He could barely move right now and he doubted he'd be any good in this condition. He needed their help. The only other option was letting a child die.

While Greg's head was filled with his own protests, the warehouse was silent. For nearly a minute, Kaiser stared him down, as if still attempting to parse the fact that a hero had asked him a favor.

"How do you expect us to find this girl, wherever she is?"

Kaiser broke the silence with a blunt sentence, lifting Greg's spirits as he realised what the man's words meant. He didn't refuse. His mood quickly fell again as he tried to answer the villain's question, only to realise that he had no idea how. "I...I don't know. I just thought…",Greg's voice trailed off.

"You thought what?" Kaiser responded quickly.

Greg's gaze fell to the floor and he let out a sigh, the depths of his exhaustion hitting him hard. The burning ache in his chest continued to flare, making him feel even more tired with every ebb and flow. "I don't know. I don't know what I thought."

"Sir."

Greg's head shot up in surprise as an unexpected and unfamiliar voice made itself heard. Kaiser slowly turned his head, locking gazes with the bald cape at his side. "You have something to add, Krieg?"

"I do." Greg blinked in confusion at the soft voice coming from such a large and intimidating figure.

Kaiser's armored head made a slow movement in Greg's direction, the boy staring in confusion at the motion. "For him?"

The bald cape nodded sharply. Greg blinked again, unsure what was going on.

Kaiser leaned back on his throne, raising a hand to his chin. "Very well."

The bald cape tilted his head towards Kaiser in a deferential bow before pivoting to face Greg.

 _What now?_ Greg stared at Krieg as the cape walked toward him, his slow, measured steps somehow leaving Greg with a rising sense of tension. It only took him fifteen seconds for Krieg to cross the warehouse floor but it might as well have been fifteen minutes. It was long enough for Greg to note that Krieg was wearing his normal costume, a leather version of a Nazi officer uniform covered in straps and lined in silver. Greg shook his head as the man neared him, trying to chase away the angry thoughts as they only seemed to make the pain worse.

Their gazes met, their faces just a meter apart, and the cape raised his hand, displaying a phone.

"Is this the girl?"

"...what?" Greg turned to the screen immediately and he felt his eyes widening.

"The girl you're referring to. Is this her?"

Greg ignored his words, eyes still focused on the image. Tina.

The image of the little girl on the screen was almost exactly as he remembered her. Most of the grime was absent from her face and the lighting was much better, but it was the same. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Turning back to Krieg, Greg gasped out one word. "How?"

Placing the phone back in his breast pocket, Krieg spoke. "We found the girl in your arms. You had…," the cape paused, a slight frown marring his calm expression for a moment, "incapacitated several ABB members, rescuing a young couple from execution at their hands. You lost consciousness shortly after."

Greg stared dumbly. "I..I did?" _I don't remember that._

Krieg nodded slowly. "You did."

 _I...I...I really don't remember that. When was that?_ Greg shook his head quickly, the throbbing sensation of a headache creeping up on him again. "Where is she?", he rasped.

"I placed her in the care of paramedics and she was taken to the hospital."

Greg couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at Krieg's words. "Really?"

"...Yes."

The "Thank you" had spilled out before he could stop himself and Greg couldn't find it in him to regret it. After a moment of thought, he repeated it. "Seriously, thank you,"

The same slight frown was visible on Krieg's face again, before it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "You're welcome."

Krieg turned and began walking back to his former position in that slow, measured way of his, leaving Greg to stare at his back. Upon reaching Kaiser's side, the two began to speak in hushed tones.

Greg couldn't even begin to care. His knees buckled and he leaned into the wall, his black slowly sliding down the wall until he touched the cold concrete floor of the warehouse.

 _I did it. I saved her. I actually saved her._ He felt like laughing but he was pretty sure he didn't have the energy in him to do even that. The last bit of adrenaline in him had been stimulated by the thought of the little girl's safety, and with that resolved, there was nothing keeping the exhaustion at bay.

His eyelids felt like concrete and every blink was a momentous effort.

Right before darkness took him, he could vaguely make out someone calling his name.

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"You must be joking."

Kaiser slowly sat back on his throne, taking the time to make himself comfortable before turning to face his ex-wife. "About what?"

Purity narrowed her eyes at him, the light sources only increasing in intensity. "About that...that...thing over there,," she spat, finger outstretched and pointing towards the room that held the prone figure of one Greg Veder.

Taking off his helmet, Kaiser chuckled deeply at her words, knowing very well that the action would incense Purity. "That thing, Kayden, is my godson and I'd prefer if you didn't refer to him as a thing. He's rather important to me."

Purity shifted from annoyance to confusion, an expression that was made humorous by the fact that she literally looked like a deer with headlights.

"You have a godson?" The question that Kaiser was sure would be the next thing out of Purity's mouth was stolen by Hookwolf.

Kaiser looked up, staring at his lieutenant as he sat at the end of the steel table he had created, his metal skin gone. Krieg, and the twins, Fenja and Menja, had taken a seat as well, leaving only Purity floating around, petulance preventing her from sitting down simply because he had made the table. Othala had been dismissed not too long ago before this meeting had started, Kaiser deciding he'd rather not have her privy to certain information. All of the remaining E88 members, with the exception of the twins, looked at him expectantly.

"I do, in fact, have a godson," Kaiser began. "I hadn't seen the boy for about...oh, how long?" Kaiser paused to give Purity a knowing look, "I believe it's been four or so years. His parents and I were rather...close and his father was very helpful when it came to concealing certain aspects of my personal finances." The playful tone left little doubt to what aspects those were. "I wasn't exactly planning on contacting until I happened to receive a certain picture Monday night."

This time, the laughter from Kaiser was entirely genuine. "I had been wondering how I would find some way to take out the yellow bastards on the other side of town and, lo and behold, who should fall into my lap but my own godson, the same little boy who gouged out Lung's eyes with his own two hands."

Krieg nodded. "Rather fortuitous."

"Isn't it? His cape name? 'Superior'. He chose it himself. It's almost unbelievable. My goodness, it's like Christmas came early."

Hookwolf let out an amused breath behind his mask. "I can't deny that the kid makes me laugh. Still, hard to imagine that little shit actually doing something to Lung, especially when he's that big."

Kaiser nodded."And yet, look at what happened.."

"Sir, if I may?"

Kaiser raised an eyebrow as Krieg spoke up again. Earlier, he had surprised them all by answering the boy's question about a child he had saved, some mulatto urchin in ABB territory. After Greg had lost consciousness, the man had admitted to Kaiser that the girl had already died in the boy's hands. Smoke inhalation and a case of broken ribs would do that to a child, apparently. Regardless, he had eased the boy's mind by lying to him. It would only make things easier later on for them.

"Yes, James, go on."

"I admit that he has proven useful due to the incident with Lung but I must ask; what purpose could the boy serve, really? Judging by his behavior, I doubt he'd willingly help us," said Krieg.

Kaiser clapped his hands together at Krieg's words. "That's the thing, James. He doesn't have to do anything willingly. As of Thursday, April 14, 2011, Superior is now owned and financed by MedHall Pharmaceuticals. Yes, I have a superhero on payroll. He responds to crimes permitted by...certain individuals or those belonging to certain undesirable groups."

"The niggers and the squints?", added Hookwolf bluntly.

"Who else?" Kaiser said, still smiling.

"This is insane," Purity interjected with a scoff, evidently over her surprise. "You can't really expect this not to somehow blow up in your face. No matter how gullible he is, the kid's gonna get suspicious eventually. What then, Max?"

Kaiser noted the glare the twins leveled at Purity as she spoke and felt his smile increase ever so slightly. His girls were loyal. "Now, now, Kayden, don't stress your incandescent little head about that," Kaiser replied, still smiling at the snarl that played at the glowing woman's lips. "That's for me to worry about."

Purity's eyes narrowed even further but she said nothing, content simply to glare at her ex-husband.

Standing up abruptly, Kaiser placed his palms flat on the table and stared at the others. "Now, we have some business to take care of regarding our sleeping guest. Krieg?"

The cape in question stood up slowly at his leader's words. "Sir?"

"Yes. Take three or four of our more…" Kaiser paused, trying to find the appropriate term, "amiable grunts and have them hose the boy down. From what you've told me, most of that blood isn't his and I'd rather he not be walking around covered in evidence."

Hookwolf grunted, drawing Kaiser's attention. "Evidence? What'd the kid do?"

"Not important," lied Kaiser."That reminds me. I need you to make an appearance at a certain location in ABB territory in an hour or so. Nothing much, just run around fully transformed for a bit. If some ABB happen to get in your way, end them. Make it bloody. Crush heads, remove limbs, you know what I mean. Just make sure your presence is noted."

Hookwolf nodded, the hirsute man used to these kinds of cryptic orders from Kaiser.

Finally, Kaiser turned to Fenja and Menja. "Jessica, Nessa, I'm going to need you girls to bring me the lock-box in my private office. There should be something special in there. I need it brought to me. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Max." They responded in unison, a trait of theirs that Kaiser couldn't deny made him smile.

"Delightful, girls." Clapping his gauntleted hands together, Kaiser nodded. "I trust everyone else understands their parts?"

At their affirmative responses, Kaiser let out a sigh.

"Excellent. Hopefully, after all is said and done, we'll be one step closer to ridding this city of it's filth."


	50. Complications 2-16A

**Hey, everyone. New update is two days late. I told you all I needed a beta. Had no offers so had to do it myself. Anyone interested in being a regular beta can just send me a PM. I don't need any help with grammar or anything if that's not your specialty. Just some help with making sure the writing flows and everything sounds alright.**

 **Anywhoo, in reference to those readers who had concerns about Evron and his role in the story, you are right on that. When I had written roughly six or seven chapters, I didn't have a real plan. That changed after Evron's first interlude. Now, the plan is in motion and I fully understand your concerns that Evron is too strong for Earth Bet and his attitude.**

 **The title change that I'm considering also relates to this. I had already had a way to write around that but what I hadn't realized at the time was that when I made that writing plan, I made the title irrelevant because there was no need for Titan to rise. He can't exactly rise any further. He's reached the end of his story arc. That is why I feel the title needs to change.**

 **Also, Mitchell from the prelude will come into play later. Not too long down the road but still,** _ **later**_ **. I didn't just write about him to leave it like that. Why would I write about someone trapped in Canberra, possibly Simurghed, and then just leave it alone? There will be a return.**

 **Also, I'm actually getting started on Greg's arc. I didn't give him these powers randomly. I wanted to write a Greg who has to learn that he can't let himself be led by his emotions and let himself feel everything all the time. From what Crazy Pig told me (Word of God) here, that's Greg's main problem. He has no middle gear. He goes from 0 to 100 with no in between. I want to explore what that would do to a person who has power that he can't afford to go out of control with.**

 **I don't want to write a Trauma Conga Line here, people. I just want to write a story where Greg learns some harsh truths about the world he lives in.**

 **K. Thanks. Byeeeeeee.**

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Complications 2.16

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It began again, as it always seemed to ever since he stepped back within the city limits of this cesspool of a city, with a disruption to the plan.

When he had decided to venture outside this morning, he had done so with the intention of completing a self-appointed mission.

He had assumed that such a situation would involve spying on certain individuals to gather information. He had prepared for that.

He assumed that his mission would involve the forceful gathering of intelligence from those same individuals. He had prepared for that.

He also assumed that the mission would require the elimination of those same individuals once said information was gathered. As always, he had prepared for that.

He had prepared for locked doors, exotic weaponry, and multiple targets.

What he hadn't prepared for was the appearance of a sleeping kid on the roof he had secured for this operation, especially not at this time in the morning. The E88 colors the kid wore had thrown him off and he had instinctively gone for one of his guns at his back but he stopped himself. He knew who this was, after all, and he doubted a pistol would do much more than bruise him.

 _Superior,_ that was his name or at least that's what the kid had been called on the news. Other, much less reputable sites, had allowed him to find more information of a more private nature.

Behind dark violet-tinted goggles and a silver mouthpiece, he let out a sigh as he considered what to do..

 _The mission can't proceed under these conditions. Options?_

Judging from the disparaging reports of the hostages from the bank incident, the boy either wasn't very bright or was rather gullible. Two things he could take advantage of. _Easy to convince. Potential for assistance exists._

If he continued his mission with the kid around, he doubted that he would get far before something unfortunate happened.

The information from PHO had been a gold mine,allowing him to gain a basic understanding of Superior's capabilities. Simply put, a direct physical confrontation with the kid would be pointless and likely fatal. _Offensive and defensive capabilities make attempts to neutralize unlikely to succeed._ That is, without extensive preparation. _High-velocity sniper rifle through orbital cavity may succeed. Potential for termination noted._

Now, two options remained. He could leave the kid lying here and return when no capes are in the area...or he could wake the child up and work his way into the favor of a gullible teenager. One option had long-term benefits, the other didn't. The choice was clear.

It took him five seconds to remove the tactical vest and holsters he wore and place them carefully in his bag. All but two of his knives and guns were kept with the rest of his tools in his duffel and he kept those in a nigh invisible holster at the small of his back. Placing his duffel bag a few meters away from the kid, he walked back over and fell into a crouch by the sleeping cape. Again, he couldn't help but feel confusion at the red, white, and black the boy was wearing. Those were, without a doubt, E88 colors. _Possible coincidence. Confirmation needed._

He let out a sigh, the sound coming out strangely due to the flat and atonal nature of his voice modifier. He reached out a hand to shake the boy's soldier and quickly regretted it. Blue eyes snapped open and the boy sprung into action, a pale hand lunging out to grab his neck. He ducked as the powerful hand flew past his head, slamming through the brick wall of the stair access enclosure.

Brown and red dust flew through the air as he jumped back, creating space between himself and the cape. The sudden movement sent a minor jolt of pain to his leg, a pain that he ignored. He knew it would fade.

Landing in a crouch, he stared up into the confused eyes of the awakened boy, watching the kid pull himself free from the brick and mortar with an ease that was made even more unnatural by how casual the movement seemed to be.

 _No damage to metacarpals and no presence of swelling or discoloration on wrist or arm. Mid-level Brute rating confirmed._ Behind his back, he slowly gripped his pistol, squeezing it ever so tightly as he considered how useful it would be on the cape. _Likely ineffective._

He could try and escape but he doubted he would get far on his own too feet. _Mover abilities designed for pursuit._

That left only one option. _Fighting pointless. Defuse tension. Distract and send away._

Slowly standing to his full height, he raised a hand in greeting as he kept his gaze locked on the cape, the confused expression on the boy seemingly increasing the longer he stayed quiet. It took him all of three seconds to turn off the voice modulator in his mask with his tongue and work his normally low tense voice into a much more pleasant tone.

He opened his mouth.

"Hello. Are you alright?"

ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ

Greg jolted awake as he felt something brush his skin. As usual, the same rush of energy hit his system the moment his eyes snapped open, jumpstarting him much the same way he imagined coffee would. It was a bit more than just a pick-me-up, though. It brought him from asleep to fully awake in a second, making him hyper-aware of his surroundings for however long it lasted.

Normally, that energy would taper off as he found himself in a familiar environment or surrounded by familiar people. When he wasn't, his reaction was different.

The last time it had happened, he had woken up in a warehouse surrounded by the E88. Despite being tired and injured, he had thrown a cot several meters with one hand.

This time, he woke up to the image of a black and silver mask staring down at him.

Greg blinked. The person had vanished and he wasn't lying down anymore. No, they hadn't vanished.

He stared as the dark-clothed cape flipped backwards with unnatural grace, landing in a perfect crouch. As he landed, the cape glanced upwards, his gaze oddly fixated on Greg's torso. Greg looked down, staring at his hand, and tilted his own head in confusion. His hand had broken through a wall, scattering brown dust all over him. _How did that happen?_

Greg eased his hand from the wall in a single movement, slightly annoyed as more dust fell on his clean red shirt.

 _What?_

Greg glanced back down at what he wore, confusion rising the longer he stared. The fabric felt oddly...durable while the shoulders and chest area were covered in heavy padding and metallic studs. A belt, a similarly padded and studded pair of black cargos and heavy combat boots completed the ensemble, leaving Greg even more confused. Strangely, the shirt bore an uncomfortable resemblance to what he had seen on the E88 online. The last thing he remembered wearing was a pair of gray sweatpants and that was when…

 _When I was talking to Kaiser. Holy…_

Greg blinked again, his mouth falling open. _Did the Empire dress me?_

He looked down at himself again, shivering at the thought. _Oh my god, the E88 dressed me. When did...How? This is just wrong._ He patted at the pocket of his new trousers. _Shit, did they take my phone as payment or something?_ Greg groaned in the back of his throat. _Oh my God, Uncle Max is gonna kill m-_

The sound of movement caught Greg's attention and he looked up, staring at the dark-suited cape that he had seen when he woke up. The cape had risen from his crouched position and lifted a hand in what seemed like a lazy wave.

"Hello. Are you alright?"

"Uh...I'm fine, I guess," Greg murmured in response. It wasn't anywhere close to being a lie. He felt great, in fact. "Where am I?"

"On a roof," was the matter-of-fact response he received.

Greg looked up, goggling at the sky as if seeing it for the first time. In a way, he actually was. He really hadn't realized where he was. "A roof," he repeated. It was much more a statement than a question as Greg could see it for himself. _The sun is barely up. It's already tomorrow. How long was I out?_ The sky was still tinged the orange of sunrise and Greg only shook his head. _Obviously long enough for the Empire to get me clothes and dress me._

"Yes." confirmed the cape. "Near the edge of the Downtown Coast."

"Uhh...what time is it?"

"Twenty-four minutes and thirty-eight seconds after six."

Greg started at the cape's sudden response. He hadn't done so much as check a phone or watch or anything. "Really?"

"As of when you asked? Yes."

Greg nodded slowly, still confused. His eyes roamed over the cape, noting the dark full-body costume. _Is this guy with the Empire too?_

He doubted it. While the black wouldn't have been out of place with the E88, the purple highlights were more Merchant's colors and the silver portions were entirely out of place. Either way, the suit looked more like something a special ops soldier would wear. Someone like this would have been obvious in the E88 lineup.

"Who are you?" Greg blurted out the question on his lips.

"What do you mean?" The cape responded smoothly. "Do you mean my name? Who I work with?" Greg watched as the cape shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I can't tell you that."

His words left Greg feeling even more uncertain about this mystery cape than before. "Why not? Are you a hero or..." He let the question trail off.

"Neither."

Greg frowned. "Huh?"

"I would be considered a rogue. I don't work for anyone. I don't have a name that I can give you."

"Oh." Greg felt his anxiety deflate as he heard the rogue describe himself. Rogues weren't really in the public eye because they used their powers for themselves, as opposed to running around saving or hurting people. Most didn't even have secret identities, at least in the sense that they went to the trouble of picking cape names. _So he's definitely not with anyone. I guess he can't be that bad._

"Do you…,"Greg paused and looked down at his feet as he tried to think of the best way to phrase this, "Do you happen to know how I got here?" Greg suppressed a wince as he found himself repeating something similar to what he had asked Kaiser. He hated this feeling, being unsure of his own surroundings or what had happened.. _I honestly wonder what it feels like to know what the hell is going on for once._

The cape shrugged his shoulders, one hand falling behind his back as he did so. "I should be asking you." The cape took a few steps closer. "Besides, this is ABB territory. Not safe to wear those colors."

"T-these colors?" Glancing down only made him wince and he folded his arms across his chest as if the action could actually hide what he wore.

"Some cape groups are interested in you." The cape nodded slowly, as if completely sure of his words. "Am I wrong?"

Greg blinked, mouth falling open. "How…"

"A cape with Aryan features. Dressed in the colors of a certain group. Raises certain implications."

Greg gasped as as he realized exactly what the rogue meant and he shook his head quickly. "N-n-no! I mean...uh...no way. This is...uh...It's not like that. I just needed clothes and...uh...they were just...there, you know." The lie fell out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"Oh." The cape sounded unconvinced.

"Seriously, I'm not...I'm...I'm not..ughhh," Greg let out a groan as he struggled to find the words and he could already feel his face twisting into a familiar smile, the expression as fake and awkward as it always was when he felt nervous or uncomfortable, "I'm not...with them. I'm not a fan of the whole 'racism, violence and white power' thing they got going on over there. I'm more a 'Truth, Justice and The American Way' type of guy." Greg let out a little laugh as he finished his joke and looked expectantly at the rogue.

The cape only stared back, tilting his head slightly.

 _Am I the only person in this city who knows about that guy? God help me._ Greg let out a chuckle as awkward as the smile he wore. "Forget about that. Yeah, I'm not a fan of the E88."

"Interesting." The cape's head dipped slightly before he looked up again. "You're wearing that because you have no choice."

Greg blinked. It's not like he wanted to wear E88 colors but the shirt and pants were actually pretty durable. He wasn't sure what they were made of but he doubted any normal fabric could've held up to the stress of him punching through a wall like that without ripping apart somewhere. It was also really comfortable. Still, he couldn't exactly tell the rogue that. "Yeah."

"I can help with that."

"Um...how?"

The cape didn't answer the question, instead choosing simply crouching down to open the duffel bag at his feet. Greg watched him rifle around in the large bag. Within seconds, he withdrew something. "Catch."

Greg's hand shot out as soon as the object left the rogue's gloved hands. He raised the object up, feeling the cloth and a much harder material behind it resist deforming under his grip. It was...

"A jacket?" The question was directed to the rogue who had taken the opportunity to lean against the stairwell door, bag already on their back.

"Graphene. Kevlar. Nomex. Carbon nanotube weaving." He chose not to answer Greg's non-question, simply listing off materials.

"Uhhh…So," Greg's eyes went from the jacket to the cape. "It's strong?"

"Yes." Greg couldn't see the rogue's face due to his mask and the intonation he put into his words made it even harder to guess his emotions. Still, he doubted he was happy having to repeat himself. "Perfect for you. Don't worry about the size. It resizes to fit...within reason."

"Th-that sounds kinda expensive," Greg stated, still holding the jacket away from himself.

"That's what I've heard," the rogue replied. "Wear it."

"Oh...uh, 'kay."At his words, Greg put his arms through the jacket slowly, marveling at how well made it was. White lines went down the fabric at certain points, contrasting well against the jet-black fabric. "Whoa, this is nice." Greg zipped up the jacket roughly mid-way, allowing a bit of red to peek out.

He glanced up at the rogue and flashed him a smile. "Thanks a lot, man. I don't know if I can pay you back for it. I...uh," Greg bit his lip as he suddenly remembered that he actually had money now, "Actually,...uh, I can probably pay you back for this."

The rogue raised one hand to literally wave off his offer but Greg wasn't exactly okay with that.

"No, seriously, I can pay you."

The rogue stared back at him. "I don't want money. Just keep it safe."

' _Kay. Weird but okay._ "Uh…thanks." I'm Superior, by the way."

The cape nodded his head slowly. "I know."

Greg filled the silence left by the blunt answer with another rendition of nervous laughter. "Umm...you can call me Greg."

"Trust me, I know."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. Your identity is online. Free for anyone to find with effort," the rogue replied in a disaffected tone that was somewhat at odds with his preference for short and clipped sentences. He crossed his arms over his chest as he finished speaking.

Greg pulled a face at that. _Is that true? I never actually thought about it like that_. It was hard for Greg to decide what he thought about it but he gave a mental shrug, regardless.. _I guess if New Wave can deal with it, so can I._

The rogue continued. "You did a lot for a rookie. A quarter of the country must have heard about it."

"That many?" The idea was almost unfathomable. It had only been a week, after all. _Awesome!_

The rogue nodded. "Possibly a low estimate but not unlikely. What you did was impressive, after all."

Greg felt a smirk rising on his face at the compliment. Trying not to come off as cocky so he replied, "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I didn't mean to do all that. All I was trying to do was stop Lung and it just turned out like that."

"You didn't." The reply was blunt and quick, leaving the rogue's mouth before Greg had finished speaking.

"Yeah, I guess," Greg blinked as he processed the response, different from what he had been expecting. "Uh...wait, what?"

"You didn't _stop_ Lung," the cape replied.

"Uh..yeah, I did. I totally beat him", Greg argued back, his tone slightly more defiant.

"Yes. You beat him. But that isn't what I said," he said, leaning back further against the wall. "Lung regenerates. He still has his gang. You didn't _stop_ him. At best, you inconvenienced him." The soft, light tones the rogue used had faded ever so slightly, adding a dry amusement to his tone. Greg stared into the violet-tinted goggles of the rogue, wishing desperately he could see his face.

"I don't…"

"Lung is not in the Birdcage," the cape continued, not letting Greg interrupt. "He is in PRT containment. By now, he's healed. If you're lucky, he is is under sedation. If you're not, he's awake. Either way, he is angry."

Greg felt the smirk slide off his face. "I...I don't...get…"

"Fine. I'll make it simple," he began, voice still as calm and light as if he was talking about the weather. "Most villains have large egos. Lung is no exception. He was beaten by you, a child. Now he looks weak. As a villain and a gang lord, he can't have that. Now, you have a target on your back."

"And so what?" Greg's smirk shifted into a bitter scowl. "He can bring his whole gang after me and I'll still beat him. I'll beat all of them!."

"True." With that concession from the rogue, Greg felt himself calm down, his breathing slowing. Then, the rogue spoke up again.

"Your mother," Greg's ears perked up,"...can she survive a bullet?"

"What kind of questi-" Greg flinched as the rogue shot his palm up in a 'stop' motion.

"An important one. Your identity is online, remember. It's unlikely that the ABB don't at least know your mother's name."

Greg blanched, inhaling a sharp breath. "I...I...I".

The words wouldn't come out no matter how hard he tried and he began to panic, wondering why he couldn't speak. After a moment, he remembered to breathe in. "My...my mom? Why would…Lung wouldn't go after her. Would he?"

 _Right? He wouldn't go after her, right?_

The rogue folded his arms. "He would. You're no threat like the Merchants or the Empire. He can afford to act on a grudge because you don't have an army."

"So…," Greg swallowed, "you're saying that…"

"There's no doubt," said the masked rogue, nodding slowly as he spoke. "He will go after your mother to make you suffer."

 _I put Mom in danger. They're gonna hurt her. What did I do?_ Greg closed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, barely resisting the desire to punch something. _Dr. Shen told me I should have made sure he was finished. Oh my god, he's gonna go after mom._

Scenes of his mother running away from a massive red dragon filled his thoughts only to be followed by images of a masked man pursuing her. Greg took in a sharp breath as he felt his heartbeat quicken, his lungs beginning to work overtime as he tried to process what he was feeling. _This can't be happening. This can't… No._

"Superior."

This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not happening. _THIS WAS NOT HAPPENING! NO! NO! NO!_

"Superior...Superior...Superior...Greg!"

His name cut through the haze like a knife through butter, leaving Greg shaking and shivering in the cold New England air, suddenly aware that he wasn't breathing.

He gasped heavily, taking in large, greedy gulps of air. He stared at the cape, eyes wide open in shock. "What…," he took in another breath, "what happened?"

The rogue hadn't moved from his position beside the door of the stairwell roof access. "You started shaking and then...smoking."

This feeling...the sensation of his blood feeling like it was going to burst out of his veins, the tightness in his chest, and the taste of blood in his mouth...It was getting way too familiar. Greg tried to even out his breaths, breathing slower until the movement of his chest was no longer erratic. His heartbeat began to settle and with it, his focus began to return. "...smoking?"

The nameless rogue simply gestured towards Greg's trembling hands, held down at his side.

Greg raised his hands to his face and he saw what the rogue had gestured to. Tendrils of steam rose from his still-quivering arms, the cold air of dawn making them much more distinct than they would normally be. _What happened to me? What is this?_

"No". Greg shook his head furiously, a scowl on his face. _No! I don't have time for this! I have to...I have to…_

"I have to go." 'Check on my mother' was what he left unsaid.

The rogue shrugged. "If you must."

Nodding in response, Greg turned back and studied the skyline, making sure he was heading in the right direction. A second later, he paused and turned back around. "Thanks."

"For what?" was the response in the same calm, barely amused voice.

Greg paused, unsure of what to say. "I guess...you made me realize some things. I haven't really been thinking ahead."

The rogue nodded, apparently deciding that he had no need to respond.

 _If I had my phone, I could just call her. Fucking Empire._ Greg steeled his expression and turned back to face the skyline. He stared back down at his hands, no longer smoking but still somewhat shaky. Those hands tightened into solid fists, clenched so tightly that Greg could see his knuckles whiten.

He bent his legs, crouching ever so slightly, and as if launched from a cannon, he was in the air.

 _I'm coming, mom._

ΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ

 _6: 32 AM_

He watched the young cape rocket through the air in an arc, landing an impressive distance away. The hospital was still a few dozen miles in that direction but he doubted the kid would stop until he was there as soon as possible.

"Gregory Lucas Veder...hmm. Nice kid. A bit dull, but nice all the same."

He supposed he shouldn't really be pleased right now. He had just loaded one of the largest guns in the city and aimed it directly at Lung's draconic form. There was bound to be an immense fallout from this situation, but it couldn't be traced back to him, so what did he care? Besides, he knew where the cape would be at all times now with all the trackers embedded in that jacket.

Still, he wondered if this was the right thing to do. He had essentially sent the boy to his death. No matter what fortune the boy had encountered in his first bout with Lung, he was bound to lose if he went up against him a second time.

 _6:33 AM_

Most likely, Lung had been going easy on him before simply to avoid killing the boy on his first day as a hero and that had led to his defeat and capture. This time, he would be out for blood.

Again, he smiled. It was none of his business, anyway. His personal feelings for Lung regardless, it wasn't in his best interests to eliminate him. He had a job to do right now and he could contemplate taking care of Lung during his leisure time.

He pulled one of his twin handguns from their holster at the small of his back and attached a dark cylinder to the barrel, making sure it was firmly attached.

 _Glock 17_

 _Subsonic ammunition_

 _6 Bullets_

 _Perfect._ Behind his mask, his lips twitched in the slightest of smiles as he held the gun up. _6:34._

Standing up, the rogue leaned back against the wall, single gun in hand. For six minutes, he stood flush against the wall, simply waiting.

 _6:35._

 _6:36._

 _6:37._

 _6:38._

 _6:39._

 _6: 40_

Right on queue, the door to the roof stairwell creaked open and a figure stumbled out onto the rooftop, barely able to stand. He reeked of alcohol, most likely due to the fact that he had been drinking heavily the night before. Most of the ABB was not happy with the new management, after all. Some found it rather stressful.

His back was turned towards the rogue but that was all he needed. The tattoos on his back only helped serve a signifier of his identity. He had the man's schedule memorized. Every morning, twenty minutes before 7, he would be on this rooftop in order to smoke in peace.

 _Yao Qigang_

 _Wanted by the Brockton Bay Police Department for_

 _3 counts of Arson in the fifth degree_

 _2 counts of criminal sexual acts in the second degree_

 _Aggravated sexual abuse in the second degree_

 _Criminal possession of a chemical weapon or biological weapon in the third degree_

 _Vehicular manslaughter in the first degree_

 _Criminal possession of stolen property in the fifth degree_

 _Criminally possession of drug paraphernalia in the second degree_

 _Assault in the first degree_

 _Obscenity in the third degree_

He was wanted in at least three other locations. A career criminal, the man was also relatively high-up in the ABB hierarchy. High enough to be acquainted with his target, at least. That's all he needed.

"Yao!"

The hungover man turned around at the sound of his name only to hear a noise like a door slamming. In the same instant, a familiar pain coursed through his leg and he screamed, dropping his cigarettes and cursing loudly in Mandarin.

He tried to pick himself up and run from only to receive a boot to the face, creating a satisfying crack. Three teeth went flying from Yao's mouth followed by blood from both his mouth and nose.

The rogue looked down at the man groaning in what must have been excruciating pain and took off his goggles, creating an opening in his facemask. He needed to look the man in the eyes for this.

He cleared his throat, in an effort to get his attention.

 _{Shit! Shit! Holy shit}_ Yao cursed in Mandarin, too caught up in the throes of pain to pay attention to the dark figure standing above him.

The rogue shook his head. _Pathetic. At least pay attention to the person who put a bullet in you._

Another boot came down, this time on the man's testicles, eliciting more screams and forcing the man to look up at the rogue.

 _{Greetings, Mr. Quigang. I require information from you.}_ His Mandarin was somewhat rusty but it was adequate for the situation.

The man glared back up at him, eyes watery from pain. _{Shit. Goddam it! Fuck your mother's cunt, you goddamn prick.}_

He frowned underneath his mask. _{There's no need to be rude. I simply want what you know about your new leadership. I will assist you to a hospital shortly after}_

Yao screamed again, this time more due to anger than pain. _{Fuck you, you inbred black devil. Go jack off in your sister's stinky cunt.}_

The rogue's eyes gained a cold glint that wasn't there before and he crouched down, producing a serrated knife from his back. _{I'm not sure exactly what you just said but I'm going to make you pay for it regardless.}_

The knife came down. Yao didn't scream for much longer.


	51. Complications 2-16B

_New chapter! Sure, it's a month late. Sorry about that, by the way._

* * *

Complications 2.16B

* * *

"Sir, this is a restricted area. Only patients and authorized individuals can enter."

"I just-"

"This is a restricted area. Please leave the premises."

Greg huffed and squared his shoulders, doing his best to stare down the SWAT officer in front of him.

She was stout, a few inches shorter than him, but a good deal wider. Her skin was dark and her hair a light brown. Her face was set in a blank non-expression, the slightest hints of anger visible in the narrowing of her eyes. With the heavy body armor she had on and the large rifle in her hands, she painted a much more intimidating figure than he did. New muscles or not, he was still pretty scrawny.

Even with the few inches of height he had on her, he was well aware of the half dozen other officers standing around her in identical black body armor and weaponry. All together, they looked much more threatening than one teenager in cargo pants. That is, not that Greg was actually intimidated.

"I don't have time for this. I need-"

"No, kid. What you need to do is leave! You're not authorized to be here!"

Greg...Greg wasn't entirely sure what he felt right now.

If he had asked himself that question two minutes ago, he would have replied with something that rang similar to anger, specifically red-hot rage firmly directed at the ABB.

If he had asked the same of himself sixteen minutes ago when he still stood on that roof, he would have replied with something that was a mix of gratitude for that rogue for the jacket and annoyance at that same rogue for making him feel stupid at not realizing the obvious.

Now, though…

Now, he was just annoyed.

The reason for that annoyance surrounded him on all sides. Several heavily armored police officers stood directly in front of him, their aim to prevent him from entering the barred doors of the hospital just several meters away. Other officers, simple boys in blue instead of the militaristic figures in front of him, stood by their cars with their handguns aimed at his back.

Greg shook his head in frustration for what must have been the fourth time in as many minutes. Honestly, he couldn't believe he was still stuck in this situation when he could have simply done what he needed to do and left.

"Don't you know who I am?"

The stoic look on her face darkened and she took a step forward, shifting the human barricade she and her men had formed with their bodies. "Yes, I know exactly who you are."

Greg blinked in surprise, not actually expecting that. "Y-you do?"

"You're some kid who thinks I'm going to let him walk into an overcrowded hospital simply because he happened to luck out and get some fancy superpowers." The officer raised an eyebrow. "That sound about right?"

"Look, my mom is in there!" He shot a glance at the hospital entrance behind her. Greg shifted in place as the officer's eyes narrowed even further. His eyes locked on her with a laser-like focus, watching her frown intensify, and he felt a grim expression grow on his own face to match.

The officer didn't seem to care too much about his growing ire. "And? That's not my problem. There's no visiting hours. If you haven't heard, there's a bit of a crisis going on. I'm not going to let you in just to talk to your mommy." Her calm tone was offset by the sneer on her face and the implied insult didn't help either.

Greg forced down the insult that he desperately wanted to let out, choosing to simply explain himself. "She's a nurse, okay? Not a patient. I just want to talk to her, see if she's alright."

She raised an eyebrow. "What, you don't have a phone?"

This time, he suppressed the snarl that rose from the back of his throat, forcing it down with a sound that came out as a muffled groan. He had no idea where his phone was but he suspected the Empire Eighty-Eight might have something to do with it. Probably stole it while I was knocked out or something.

Greg's frown deepened as he thought back to his experience with the E88 what must have been a little over twelve hours ago. While they did heal him and clothe him, he couldn't separate their helpful actions from the fact that they were literal Nazis. Short of trusting them not to off him in his sleep, he didn't expect anything much from them.

"No...I don't have a phone."

"That still doesn't change anything."

"What?" His eyes widened before narrowing again in annoyance. "You don't underst-"

Brown eyes steeled and the officer gripped her weapon tighter, unconsciously raising it to match the officers around her.

"Listen, kid! I have a job to do here. That involves securing the premises and keeping the situation in this hospital under control. I doubt letting a kiddie cape into that hospital looking like a poster boy for the Empire is going to do anything but make my job harder."

Greg couldn't hide his flinch at her not-untrue statement. Being blond and blue-eyed in Brockton Bay, you had to expect that most people, even those already in the Empire, would assume that you were either a straight up neo-Nazi or otherwise involved in the Empire Eighty-Eight in some way. It didn't help his conscience that he technically was outfitted in Empire gear. Still, it hurt- _deeply._

Clenching his fists tightly, he leveled a glare at the female officer instead of retorting. Hot rage leapt up in his chest again and he took several steps back, more for her safety than anything else. His fingers twitched at his sides and he forced himself to calm down, still well aware that the woman in front of him was nowhere near his physical equal.

"Now, once again, this is a restricted area. Please leave the premises."

"God, shut up already," Greg growled, and the heat rose in his chest again. "I get it! I heard you the first hundred times!"

All the officers surrounding her tightened their grips on their weapons and Greg saw a few raise their large rifles in his direction at the sound of his raised voice.

"Stand down!" The female officer held her hand up and the most of the other officers heeded her signal, lowering their weapons. Despite acquiescing to their commander's wishes, the harsh glares on the predominantly male faces conveyed exactly how they felt about it.

Greg made sure to glare right back, pulling on the distinctive warmth in his eyes that he knew shifted them from blue to red. He wasn't sure exactly what it did but he did know for sure that it made most people scared and the young blond couldn't deny that he felt more than a little thrill go through him watching the officers begin to sweat as he directed his gaze toward them.

 _Who's scary now, jarheads?_

"Kid."

Greg turned his gaze back to the woman in charge, her voice strained as she spoke through gritted teeth. His lip twitched slightly upwards at the tight grip she had on the rifle in her hands. Her eyes were averted but he didn't doubt that if she wasn't wearing gloves, her knuckles would be white.

"Kid, whatever you're doing...shut it down."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Now!"

Greg's lips twitched again, stopping just short of becoming a full-blown smirk. He relaxed his eyes, the warmth fading from them quickly. He pretended not to hear the relieved sighs coming from several of the officers.

"Kid, I am trying to be nice here but you're testing my goddamn patience. It is seven o'clock in the fucking morning and you're some independent cape causing a scene outside of a hospital. I get that you want to see your mommy but that doesn't mean you can use your powers to get what you want. What you just did is basically a felony and you're already pissing me off. Get out of here before I arrest you and add a charge for disturbing the peace on top of that!" The squad leader let out several quick breaths and shook her head slowly as she ended her rant, a hand rubbing the bridge of her nose as she did so.

Greg slowly took a few steps back, staring daggers into each and every officer in front of him. His hands clenched into fists and he paused to glance up, blue eyes following the rise of the cream-colored walls of Brockton Bay Central Hospital.

 _A little over a hundred and thirty feet. Ten stories_ , his brain supplied.

He blinked at the sudden thought but pushed it to the side, focusing back on the issue at hand.

The jump wasn't impossible, as strong as he was, but he knew he could never make it more than halfway from a standing position. Not without building some serious speed, at least. Even then, he doubted he would be able to find his mother with the whole place full of SWAT and regular cops hunting for him.

Greg's eyes flickered back down to the automatic doors guarded by several officers as heavily armored as the ones that stood in his way. He didn't doubt that every other entrance was locked down and guarded similarly, the only exception likely being the ambulance bay. More than likely, that had even more people assigned to monitor it. Not for the first time, Greg contemplated simply rushing into the hospital to search for his mother, regardless of the consequences.

"Kid!" the squad leader shouted. The sound snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned back to her. Her gaze turned to the doors and she seemed to read his mind, piecing together his thoughts from a glance. The woman grit her teeth and stepped even further into his personal space. "You aren't getting in that hospital. I already warned you what would happen if you didn't leave. Just..."

The officer closed her eyes, pausing to let out a sharp breath. "Just go, kid. I'm serious, you really don't want us to take you in."

Bright blue eyes narrowed to slits and threatened to shift to red again as he glared back at the dark-skinned woman, equal parts frustration and bitter resentment making up his expression. Greg felt his jaw physically tighten as he held back the words that rose to his lips. Still holding his tongue, he turned his back on them, fully aware that more than one officer still had a rifle pointed at his open back.

He walked away from the heavily armed officers, not even sparing a glance towards their less armored associates hiding inside and behind their police vehicles, pistols still in their hands. Even though he could hear their muttered insults, the barbs they thought they said under their breath, he didn't turn back with the red gaze that he knew would send them running.

Shaking with rage, Greg headed out into the open and empty street, the same words he bit back still bouncing around in his head begging to be let out. He couldn't believe what she had said to him. _Take me in? Take_ _ **me**_ _in?_

The very idea was ridiculous. He was a cape. Even worse, he was a Brute. They weren't even PRT. Give a bunch of regular cops some bigger guns and they thought they could take him in?

Greg paused his stride. _I could have hit her. I could have hit all of them._

Shaking his head, the blonde teenager clenched his fists tightly and continued walking, paying no mind to the pockmarked streets and damaged buildings around him. That was a dangerous line of thought to go down and he didn't feel like taking the first step onto that path. _What kinda hero thinks like that anyway?_

Greg pushed the thought away and focused on simply walking, ignoring the way his fingers twitched. As he neared the end of the street, his eyes trailed over a dented and scarred stop sign, the metal pole bent almost completely backwards by the force of some errant explosive.

His vision lingered on the sign and, just for a moment, he paused as an idea made it's way to the forefront of his mind. He knew without turning around that the officers were still looking directly at him. He didn't doubt that there were still some guns aimed in his direction. Either way, he was still within their line of sight as he hadn't yet walked a single full block away from the hospital.

His idea was stupid, he knew that. It was pointless, would accomplish nothing of any real consequence and, worst of all, it was simply a waste of time.

Yet...he needed to do it.

His mind made up, Greg stretched out a hand to the damaged sign. One palm carefully curled around the midsection of the bent post while the other held the very top, the portion that was actually attached to the sign.

For a few seconds, he simply stood there grasping the pole, his mind and body trying to come to agreement on exactly what it was he needed to do.

He barely had to flex or exert himself, the steel already bending like semi-hard clay already bending beneath his fingers. Slow, deliberate movements righted the pole even as the metal shrieked in protest. It took mere seconds to ensure that it stood straight.

He had moved slowly so as not to leave any indents in the metal but even then, it wasn't enough. His own fingerprints stared back at him, perfect representations of his strength made manifest in iron.

His hands fell to his side and the pole listed somewhat, the warped metal too damaged to truly stand on it's own. The actual sign itself was damaged beyond repair, the events of the day before marking itself on the sign as much as it did the surrounding area.

Still, he could feel their eyes on his back even from here.

He could turn around and say something now.

An insult, a retort, a threat...Something mocking.

That would be worthless, though.

Something like that would only make him look even more like a kid.

He scoffed. _Sure, take_ _ **me**_ _in. You can try._

Greg slid his hands into the pockets of his new jacket and continued walking down the empty streets of the commercial district, the area already long shut down and evacuated for fear of looters and Merchants stealing anything not nailed down. The city had long learned it's lesson when it came to the gangs, after all.

He let out a long breath, paying no mind to the unusually thick cloud of visible air that touched the cold New England morning air. As he did so, Greg felt a tightness fade from his chest, a sensation he hadn't even been aware of till it was gone. _This again?_ He grunted slightly as he let out another breath, this time with significantly less visible vapor to show for it.

His footsteps were steady and unbroken on the damaged pavement, his boots beating a constant rhythm as he walked down the depressingly empty streets. It took nearly fifteen minutes and roughly twelve blocks before he allowed himself to pause again and actually think about what he had tried to do.

"God, I'm so stupid!"

 _I can't believe I did it again._ Greg's shoulders sagged with defeat as the thought drifted through his head. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

 _You got angry and ran off without even thinking again? Stupid!_ He sighed out loud, shaking his head at his own actions. This was the third time he'd done this and it was no surprise that he hadn't been successful.

Greg paused in front of a bus bench before unceremoniously falling back into the seat. Groaning, he rested his elbows on both knees and hung his head. _Why do I keep getting so angry like that? What is wrong with me? I could have asked politely but no, I had to run up and act like I owned the place._

 _I still haven't checked on Mom_ , he thought dully. _She's probably been calling me since yesterday. God, I'm so boned!_

"Mom's gonna ground me for a month, isn't she?" Greg palmed his face with both hands before groaning again. "Why am I such an idiot? Great job, Greg. You got all worked up and ran to the hospital and then you tried to pick a fight with a bunch of trigger-happy cops. Great plan right there. Real genius work. Get in their faces and bark like you own the place. How did that not go wrong at all?"

He interrupted his rambling with another sigh. "Only good thing that came out of that was that nobody was there to see it." Even as he mentioned that, Greg gave a silent prayer that neither Ev or Sparky had been there to witness it.

Evron would have said something vaguely encouraging while still managing to be a dick about it while Sparky...

 _How do you get into a dick measuring contest with a lady cop and lose? Not a good look, bro._

Greg flushed at the thought but couldn't help the chuckle that came out. _Yeah, that's definitely Sparky. Alwa-_

His line of thought was interrupted as his right arm darted in front of his face instinctively an instant before a projectile hit his open palm traveling at almost twice the speed of a fastball.

Greg surged to his feet, jumped back, choked on nothing and let out a shaky breath all in the span of a single second. Behind him, the sound of a wooden bench breaking to splinters against a hard brick wall could be heard but Greg was much too preoccupied.

Currently drawing his full attention was the black and white device in his hand that he recognized as his new phone, with the unfamiliar addition of a glitter covered post-it-note. _What._

"Over here!"

His head snapped upwards to track the path of a projectile and his eyes landed on the only possible source. Roughly half a football field away and half again as high was a robed female figure standing on... _What._

It was a car. Or, at least part of a car. Most of it had been torn away through unknown means, leaving little more than the hood and the front half of the same vehicle, sans wheels.

Greg blinked as the figure waved at him, her fingers doing the little wiggle thing that he had only seen in old movies and cartoons. _What._

He blinked again as the floating wreck she was standing on did a complete 180 and sped off, ducking behind a building and out of sight. _What._

Mind racing and still unsure of what to make of the situation, Greg looked down at his hand and could not help but blink dully one more time at the sticky note on the screen of the tinker device.

He peeled it off and stared at the garishly pink piece of paper.

 _Hey cutie. Found your phone 4 u._

 _I'm Rune BTW._

 _Check your texts. Kaiser sent u some._

 _P.S. Call me. 203-555-0196_

As the glitter-covered post-it note fell from his fingers, Greg blinked yet again and, struck with the sudden and unfortunate realization that he was once again utterly lost, summed up the entirety of his thoughts in one single, soft, flat,

"What."

* * *

 _Looks like Greg's got his phone back and a certain teenage E88 member is making moves on him._

 _I wonder where she got that idea. (I'll give you a hint. It rhymes with visor.)_

 _Anywho, I wonder what Kaiser plans for Greg. Honestly, I'd be more interested in what Rune plans for Greg. Although, that also leaves me wondering what Sophia would plan for Rune if she found out._

 _Next chapter should be out in a few days. (Don't quote me.)_

* * *

 _That's all, folks. I'm outie!_


	52. Complication 2-16C

Complications 2.16C

* * *

It didn't take long for Greg to come to terms with the odd situation he had found himself in.

Well, it took him roughly a minute or two of silent staring as he stood on the edge of the sidewalk.

Still, he didn't feel like that was too long, all things considered. The events of the last few minutes had been so unexpected and just plain weird that Greg just couldn't be sure he hadn't imagined it. It wasn't everyday that a Nazi supervillain returned your missing cell phone while giving you what could only be described as a love note before flying away.

Either way, the feel of the phone in his hands helped him to cement in his mind that he was definitely not dreaming despite how much he might have wished the opposite.

"H-h-holy…" the curse died on Greg's tongue as he paused to take a breath. As he let it out in a tense gasp, his eyes fell on the pink post-it on the ground again and he raised his eyes to gaze in the direction his mysterious visitor had vanished in.

No red-and-black robe fluttering in the wind. No hunk of metal floating in the air, blatantly ignoring the law of gravity at the whim of a teenage girl.

No cute, high-pitched voice more suited to a cheerleader at Arcadia than a neo-Nazi super-criminal.

There was no sign of her at all. Not that Greg really expected there to be in the first place.

 _Rune._

The red-robed telekinetic was one of the newer, more outspoken members of the Empire 88, and definitely the youngest, recently bursting onto the villain scene from who knows where. As a proud cape enthusiast himself, he had been part of the speculating crowd when she first started. Some people on PHO had thrown out ideas as to where exactly the E88 had found the underage girl, concepts ranging from Kaiser's illegitimate daughter to a homeless kid the Empire had picked up.

As XxVoidCowboyxX, Greg's thoughts were treated with as much derision as they usually were on the cape forums. Apparently, his speculation about some kind of neo-Nazi summer camp was just a bit too "overwhelmingly asinine" for the forums to take seriously. In all honesty, he felt that that insult was directed more to him than his opinions.

Not that he knew what he did to deserve it.

Still, unimaginative as the forums may have been, there was consensus about the teenage villain. She was a Nazi and, well, that was far from a good thing.

Sure, the ABB were technically worse, considering gang rape and sex slavery were two of the things they had a hand in, and that was only what some people knew about. Not only that, but they seemed to have no problems with kidnapping, or mass bombing, apparently. And Greg couldn't forget that Lung had the habit of rampaging around in the Docks whenever certain capes infringed on his territory.

The Merchants weren't exactly innocent either, as there were a lot of uncomfortable rumors that not all of the Merchants were there of their own free will. That was just the tip of the iceberg, considering the scum that filled the Merchant's ranks.

So, maybe the Empire might be the least of three evils but still… Nazis.

Greg looked down at the device in his hand again, the message on the note still bouncing around in his head.

 _Check your texts. Kaiser sent u some._

Greg ignored the involuntary shiver he felt making its way up his spine at the thought of exactly what that meant for him. The idea that the leader of the Empire himself felt comfortable sending him a message as well as the fact that the messenger felt comfortable enough to flirt with him by sending him what looked the girliest note in the history of mankind said far too much about exactly how little thought he had given to his interaction with the Empire.

 _Do they...Do they think I'm one of...them? I mean, I know I'm not but do they understand that?_

This time, the blond couldn't ignore the shiver.

Greg shook his head furiously a moment later, as if the action would have any effect on his thoughts. He really didn't feel like dwelling on whether his Nazi card was in the mail already. Okay, enough weirding yourself out. Just check the phone.

With a touch to the power button, the white device in his hands activated, the screen showing the silver crown and crossed swords that served as the MedHall logo. The insignia rotated in place for a few seconds before fading away to reveal his phone's lock screen.

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

 **[Ding]**

Greg felt his jaw slacken as notification after notification popped up on his screen with the same annoying **[Ding]** over and over and over again. "Nine…" he gulped, "Nineteen new voicemails?"

A low groan made its way out of his mouth as he imagined how furious his mom must be with him after calling his phone nineteen different times. _Let's just get this over with._

Deciding to simply face the music, Greg placed his finger on his home screen and allowed it to unlock itself. As it did so, even more notifications appeared and Greg let out another pained groan as he read each of them in turn.

 **[Mom: Thirty-one Missed Calls]**

 **[Mom: Forty-six Unread Messages]**

 **[Unknown: Three Unread Messages]**

 _Mom called me thirty-one times, left nineteen voicemails and sent me forty-six different texts…_

Greg raked a palm down his face, all the while letting out a low hiss of air. _Welp, there's no way that I'm not grounded._

With a quick tap on the voicemail button, Greg began to mentally prepare himself for what he expected would be nineteen voicemails worth of yelling.

 **[You have 19 New Messages. New Message]:**

" _Hello, Greg, It's Mommy. Just calling in to check on you. Axel's dad told me the two of you had a little thing planned for today. Hope you had fun. Give me a call when you get this, okay? Love you. Bye."_

 **[To replay this message, press 1. To delete, press 7. To return the message sender's call, press 8. To save this message, press 9].**

 _Okay...that one seems okay. Great, even. Time for the next one, then._

 **[Message Deleted. You have 18 New Messages. New Message]:**

" _Greg, it's Mom again. Did you hear the news?_

 _There's been explosions all over the city. Promise me you're not going to get involved, Greg._

 _Promise me."_

 _That one sounded kinda...nervous._ With only the slightest of inhibitions, Greg tapped his phone to delete the message and hurry on the next one.

" _Greg, sweetie, I need you to call me right now._

 _Right. NOW. Things are going crazy._

 _I need to know if y-"_

That message ended swiftly and Greg hurried on to the next one, eagerness to hear from his mom overriding his anxiousness over the possibility of getting in trouble.

" _Greg, call me. Send me a text! Anything! The hospital's overrun with patients!_

 _The news says there's been bombings! The ABB are going crazy._

 _The news said they've been kidnapping people, Greg!_

 _I need to know if you're okay! Please call me!"_

The voicemails continued on in the same vein, his mother becoming less calm with each new message he listened to.

As he listened to his mother's voice growing more and more frantic with each additional message, Greg found himself nervously gnawing at his lip. _I didn't realize she would be so stressed out._ _I'm so dead._

The last one only confirmed his suspicions as to how much trouble he would find himself in once his mother got ahold him.

" _Greg Lucas Veder, if I f-find out that you're not half-dead in an alley somewhere, I swear that you're going to wish you were! It's been f-fourteen hours, Greg! Fourteen hours! I've been stuck at work since yesterday, having to deal with patients coming in burnt, bleeding and dying while I don't even know if you're okay, Greg! My own son can't even pick up his phone to call me! Not even a text, Greg! I don't care what I signed with Max! No more cape stuff! I thought Monday was going to be a one time thing, Greg! You promised me! If this is what you're going to keep doing, I can't deal with this! If I even hear you talk about your powers, I swear to God, Greg, I wi-"_

 _Okay, I think that's enough._ With a single tap, Greg shut off his voicemail, now fully aware of his mother's current mood. That last voicemail had been all too informative about his mother's state of mind, the teary, warbling voice somehow managing to convey furious yelling all too well. He had made sure not to read his text messages for two reasons, one being that he felt like he had a good idea of what they contained simply from the voicemails alone. The second reason had far more to do with the fact that those three unread messages from **[Unknown]** sent a shiver of unease through him when he even thought about them.

 _Maybe I should call now and tell Mom everything._

Greg's gaze landed on the pink note on the ground right next to the black, red and white boots he was currently wearing and he held back a grimace.

 _Maybe not everything, then. Everything...minus the Nazi stuff._

 **/Brockton Bay Central Hospital/**

In a small, unlit room, a phone came to life, periodically buzzing from where it sat on the linoleum surface of the floor.

The screen lit up a moment later, showing a close-up picture of a six year old boy with a haircut that fit the utter definition of a bowl cut. In addition, the boy had a bright smile on his face, in no way diminished by his single missing tooth.

Below the picture was a single name on the phone.

 _Greg._

The phone continued to buzz, the constant droning noise accompanied by a soft snoring.

Lying on a cot just a few meters away, a long head of blonde hair shifted slowly.

"...shouldn't have done that. Sorry...again. Uh...I'll guess I see you when you get home. Love you, Mom. Bye."

With a sigh, Greg hung up the phone as he finished leaving a third message for his mom. "Maybe she won't kill me as soon as she gets home now."

Voicemails 1 and 2 had been more apologies than explanations and Greg wanted to at least give his mom a reason for not calling her instead of just saying "sorry" five different ways in thirty seconds. Hopefully, she would listen to her voicemails before she got home.

Phone in hand, Greg leaned back into the bus stop bench behind him only to stumble as his butt hit nothing but air. "Wha-ohhh." Greg turned around and winced at the alley wall behind him, the area around it scattered with pieces of the wooden bench he had been sitting on not too long before. "How did...when did...wait, did I even do that?"

Idly, the sound of a wooden bench crashing into tinder against a brick wall played back in his mind as he recalled the few minutes in which he had been introduced to Rune. _Ah, crap._

Greg shook his head and let out a low groan, forcefully pushing all thoughts of possible vandalism to the back of his mind. _I should just get out of here._

A hand went to his stomach right as the thought of leaving the scene crossed his mind, a low growling sound confirming his thoughts shortly after. _Yeah, I definitely need to get something in there._

With that, Greg leapt into the air. His jump was powerful enough that his arc took him over the streets below, allowing him to look down on the smaller buildings in the commercial district.

A smile stretched across his face as he rose. The wind in his face, the rush of air flowing past his ears...it was the best feeling he could imagine. He couldn't believe that just three weeks ago, he could barely manage to clear more than a single story leap. Now, he could manage a height of almost five times that without trying too hard. _Man, how did I live before powers?_

The smile on Greg's face faded as he felt his momentum lessen and soon enough, gravity began to pull him back where he belonged. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being in the air. _Never lasts that long, though._ He aimed himself down away from the street itself and towards a nearly empty parking lot, doing his best to remain upright.

Guided by what he had seen from Shadow Stalker's videos on the internet, Greg bent his knees in the hope of absorbing some of the impact, creating a gentler landing this time around.

"...Crap."

No such luck.

Despite his best efforts to prevent it, the pavement beneath his feet still crumbled as he slammed down hard. Rising from his crouched position, Greg grimaced at the-admittedly rather miniscule-crater he had left in the asphalt. _Crap. I made sure not to jump too high and I didn't have a running start so I definitely didn't come in too fast. I only fell for like...three? Barely three seconds._

God, he hated breaking things. At least, accidentally.

Minor property damage aside, this wasn't the worst case scenario. Had he been normal, a nearly sixty-foot fall would have turned him into a smear on the pavement. _Yay for crappy silver linings._

He hadn't yet become accustomed to compensating for the massive leaps he would make through the air.

"Really have to get that under control." Greg let out a sigh at the thought of all the property damage he'd leave behind if he didn't. It certainly didn't help that he literally didn't know his own strength. "Ughh...guess it's running for now." Running wasn't anything as good as jumping, but at highway speeds, it was a close second.

Greg took off, the hunk of shattered asphalt under his feet flying from the force of his movement. The streets in this part of the city were empty, as expected. Few cars were on the street and those he saw were hardly in usable condition, what with the explosives and looters playing their part. The same could be said for several buildings as well, with emergency services most likely evacuating people from the commercial part of Downtown before the more serious damage had taken place. The streets would probably have people filtering back in under twelve hours. Brocktonians were relatively used to gang and cape issues anyway. He doubted this emptiness would last longer than a day.

The reasons for the emptiness aside, Greg couldn't help but be thankful for it. Cars and trucks were no longer obstacles to maneuver around. They were now pivot points for him to vault over, rocketing himself forwards over the ground at high speed instead of upwards.

Empty streets meant that he could _move_.

Before he knew it, Greg found himself skidding to a stop outside of his house. With a neatly trimmed lawn and a freshly painted white exterior, the house itself was pristine. "A cozy Dutch Colonial," at least that's what his mom always said. The Veder house was his mother's baby, her perfect dream house that she convinced his dad to buy despite the much larger ones for sale. His father always hated it for that. It may have been out of raw spite but that alone made Greg love the place even more.

His neighborhood, a short jaunt from the wealthier homes in Captains Hill, was always quiet and peaceful, free from gang and cape trouble. Even today, it still stood in perfect contrast to parts of the city. No one had their doors and windows broken open, no random fires, no cars missing tires, no gaping holes in the streets or walls of buildings.

Everything around him was almost perfectly untouched by everything that happened. _Makes sense, I guess. Why riot in a suburb?_

Greg opened the waist-high gate and made his way across the cobbled path towards his front door. He stepped forwards, his hand reaching for the doorknob when a noise across the street caught his attention.

He whipped his head around, catching sight of one of the neighbors peering at him through their living room window. A neighborhood mom stared back at him with wide eyes before quickly closing her curtains.

Greg shook his head, rolling his eyes as he did so. _Of course._

Most of the people in his neighborhood had never exactly been friendly with his family, another thing he could blame his father for. After Monday, it seemed like everyone in his neighborhood was going out of his or her way to avoid him despite the moms doing their best to gossip about him behind his back. Greg turned back to the door, hand tightening around the doorknob before he paused.

 _What am I doing? It's locked. Where's my key?_

A frustrated sigh came to his lips as he realized something, his hand falling away from the doorknob.

 _I don't have my key. Why don't I have my key?_ His hands turned out the pockets of his pants, desperately searching for his key for about half a minute until he realized something. _Oh my god, these are the pants the Empire gave me._

"Damn it. I already took the spare key."

Greg looked down at the doorknob and pursed his lips in thought. "I mean, I could...but...well, I already broke it once. I can get it fixed, right? Right." Well, he was already grounded. Might as well.

Mind made up, he grabbed hold of the doorknob and twisted. It took less than a second, the weak metal and locking mechanism giving way to his superior strength. Greg walked inside and carefully closed the door behind him, shoving it into place as well as he could. With that done, he turned back to face the living room. _Man, it's dark in here._

He could barely see his own hand in front off his face. _Huh, where's the light switch?_

Already inches away from the switch, his hand froze in the air. _What's that smell?_

Tilting his head back to catch the scent again, Greg frowned.

 _Ozone...ozone and battery acid?_

The smell was confusing enough by itself. Still, Greg found himself ignoring it as his ears pricked up and his head tilted toward the sound that caught his attention.

 _Who is that? Can't be Mom. Her car's not outside and no one else has a key._

Blue eyes glinted with steel as the realization set in. _Someone broke in but...how? The door wasn't busted and the windows look fine._

It didn't make sense to Greg but he knew what he heard. Someone had **definitely** broken in.

In _his_ house.

His hand fell from the light switch to his sides where it balled up into a fist to match his other hand.

 _Empire. ABB. Merchants. I don't care._ _ **Nobody**_ _breaks into my house._

Before he could even enter the kitchen, he realized something. The noise, the clattering in the cabinets, the sound of the fridge opening, the squeak of sneaker sole on linoleum...they had all quieted.

 _What?_ He glanced down to his brand-new boots and took an experimental step. He winced as they let out an audible _squeak_ of their own on the freshly waxed wood.

 _Crap._

As Greg finished the thought, something rushed by him faster than he could make out. A flash of blue and white filled his vision and what felt like a dozen hard taps struck his elbow. _A cape!_

Greg whirled to the side as fast as he could in an attempt to avoid whoever it was. The evasive movement was unnaturally sluggish as his right arm seemed stiff and slow to respond. _Wha-_

His thoughts were cut off as a burst of pain exploded from his right arm, centering on his elbow. Greg found himself stumbling forward, only to receive another hail of deceptively light strikes this time to his unguarded chest and face. Seconds later, the pain returned right where he had been hit just in time for the figure to deliver another hail of deceivingly soft strikes directly above his sternum. He felt the air driven out of his lungs, not by raw force, but simply by the sheer amount of impacts. _How f-_

"Ngggh!"

The third burst erupted just as the second one ended, causing a blinding combination of disorienting pain and actually forcing a scream out of him. Hacking coughs rocked his body as he tried his best to maintain his balance, despite his chest feeling like a used drum.

"Who-" An unusually hard series of strikes to his right knee cut off his words.

 _God, that actually hurt!_

"Wai-nngh!" Greg stumbled forward as he inadvertently put his weight on his bad knee, right in time for the figure to strike him again in the face. The excruciating sensation exploded like fireworks in sequence, first up his leg then across his face, sending Greg down to one knee as he cradled the other one.

It just wouldn't stop.

Even though he was prepared, his eyes and ears hunting for the any sign of the person, it was all just...worthless. As fast as Greg was, this cape was faster and used surprise to his advantage. The sound of rapid tapping on the ground coming from a single direction, a flash of blue and white, both followed the same sensation of hard tapping somewhere on his body, before whoever was doing it would disappear back into the darkness. Greg wouldn't even have the time to take a step before random surges of raw PAIN would strike him, preventing him from even moving.

Hunched down on the ground, protecting his head was all he could think of doing as random bursts of pain prevented him from putting together a coherent plan.

Greg's conscious mind lost control for a second as pain blossomed up and down his spine, a series of strikes making themselves felt at the base of his neck shortly before. The pain was ignored as his eyes lit up, displaying his red-hot anger.

The tapping on the floor froze and Greg rushed upwards, one arm out as he roared in rage. The enemy cape tried to move back into the darkness but the movements were stiffer this time, unsure... _slower_.

A single outstretched arm caught the fast cape by the shoulder despite his attempts to backpedal, hurling the thin frame towards the opposite side of the room.

The figure struck the wall and fell to his feet before Greg surged forward, slamming one outstretched arm into the figure's midsection like an armbar. He heard a cracking noise and grinned. Greg didn't know it was from the wall or the figure in front of him. He really didn't care.

As his arm pushed into the attacker's sternum, he heard the cape let out another groan-this time louder-that Greg couldn't help but feel satisfied by. _How do you like it?_

The cape wasn't done. Hands wrapped around the back of Greg's head in the same amount of time it took to blink.

"Wh-"

A sharp blow caught Greg directly on his nose and he found himself stumbling backwards, blinking away tears as pain exploded across his face multiple times.

The other cape wasn't in the best of shape either as he was on all fours with shaky hands, barely managing to stay upright.

Greg stood up, anger allowing him to ignore the literally blinding pain once more, and walked over to the groaning figure still on the ground.

"¡Maldicion! How hard is your fucking head, you ugly fuck?"

Greg literally froze.

That voice.

 _What the-_ "Sparky?!"

The voice that replied was shaky but unmistakeable. "How do you kn-Wait, hold up. G? That you?"

Greg's hand immediately went for the light switch as the cape stood up. The figure dressed in all blue and white pulled down his bandana and pushed back the hoodie, allowing Greg to finally see who he had been fighting this whole time.

The face was just as familiar as the voice, long brown hair and all.

The two of them stood silently in the living room, simply staring at each other in awkward silence before Sparky decided to be the one to break it.

"So...the fucky eyes. What's with that?"

* * *

 **Yeah, it's been a while since I updated. I'm a dick, I know. Please, shower me with insults. I have failed you.**

 **Life and family "priorities" just got in the way.**

 **Those same priorities also got in the way of my classes, making me get dropped from one, fail another and get such a bad GPA in the third that I lost my Financial Aid for the semester. All my clients dried up because I was so busy I forgot to advertise my services so I had no money coming for the better part of two months because of those same goddamn priorities. Fun times, guys.**

 ** _Fun times._**

 **Anywho...I'm writing regularly again as I'm not taking any classes next semester to avoid having to pay out of pocket and I work from home so...yay for deadlines, I guess. So, I'm already done with the chapter after this. Should post it as soon as my beta is done. The chapter after that is being worked as you read this. No more writing one chapter after another. I'm working on shit in advance. Like the Boy Scouts always say "Get your Shit Together!"**

 **Or was it "Be Prepared"?**

 **I'm pretty sure it's the first one.**

 **Also, special thanks to Mo1eculeMan on the "r/fanfiction" Discord server. Without him, I probably wouldn't have posted this chapter for another week.**

 **Thanks also goes to Dino Goddess on the "Writer's Block" Discord server for agreeing to help me still beta this chapter.**

 **Same goes for pug_empress on "r/fanfiction" and minusatwelfth on the "The Ghost Writer" Discord server for giving this chapter one final look-over.**


	53. Complications 2-17

Complications 2.17

* * *

"You're a cape?"

The first words out of Greg's mouth were not an answer to his friend's question, but the blond couldn't bring himself to care. There were more important thing right now, namely…"When? How?"

Greg 's brow furrowed, the two blond caterpillars on his forehead becoming one, as he tried to comprehend how his friend could have gotten powers. In fact, less than twenty-four hours ago, Sparky had expressed excitement at the possibility of having them.

The answer was far from what he expected.

"This morning. No idea."

Greg blinked. "I'm lost."

"Me too. This morning." The response was quick and sharp, the opposite of Sparky's usual drawling Californian accent.

"I don't…" Greg trailed off, raising his hands up in confusion.

"Woke up inside the thrift store. The one by the Trainyard. You know, brah, the one with the..."

Sparky bit his lip, his head making a sudden movement to the side before righting itself. When he did, though, the motion was off, much too sudden, as if someone had pressed fast-forward instead of play for a moment. "The...the..the..."

His words trailed off, and his gaze drifted out the window. Greg turned his head to see what caught his attention only to find himself watching a flock of pigeons as they sat atop the power lines.

 _What the..._

Greg leaned forward and held his arms out in Sparky's face, waving them back and forth till Sparky's gaze focused on him again.

"The one with the what, Sparky?"

Dull amber eyes flickered between Greg and the window again before his head snapped back forward.

"You know, with the...the...fucked up prices and drugged out workers." Sparky's head bobbed along with his words, an affectation that would have been familiar to Greg if it wasn't for how strange the movement looked.

Greg's expression only grew more confused, his head tilting slightly as he spoke. "You just woke up there?"

"Yeah." Sparky shook his head, the movement at odds with his positive answer. "Naked."

At this, Greg's eyes widened. "Naked?"

"Full-on birthday suit. Grabbed these," Sparky gestured to his outfit, the blue and white hooded tracksuit, bandana, and sneakers before hurriedly shoving his hands back into his pockets, "on my way out. Kinda hard to find stuff that matched. Lights were all fucky. On and off. Couldn't really see."

" _Ooookay_ ," Greg stretched the word out for a bit. "And how you got from the Trainyard to...my house?"

"Ran."

"You...ran?"

"Yeah."

Greg nodded along cautiously. _Makes sense. He was moving pretty fast a few minutes ago. I could barely react._ "Why...my house, though? Why not go...home? I mean, I don't want to say that you shouldn't come over but..."

"I know, brah. B&E, not a cool move. I get it. I just," Sparky took in a shaky breath, rocking slightly from side to side as he paused, "I just...I figured you could help. You know, with powers and all." he raised a hand and Greg's eyes widened as he saw it.

Sparky's hand was still in the air. But then again, it wasn't. Unlike the rest of him, his hand wasn't twitching so much as it appeared to be shaking, blurring so fast it was hard to make out his individual fingers.

A part of Greg wanted to joke, to ask Sparky whether he needed AAA or AA batteries for it to get like that. Sadly, he wasn't smart enough to keep that part quiet and the words tumbled out with a forced smile on his face, even as he regretted them.

Greg's smile died slowly as one of Sparky's hands lifted from the pockets of his hoodie, the silver glint of a large round battery visible from his tightly clenched, yet still shaking, fist. "D works best. Kinda heavy, though."

Greg opened his mouth, whether to apologize for the joke or change the subject, he wasn't sure. After a moment's thought, he shut his jaw with an audible click.

 _I should talk less._

He swallowed before opening his mouth again, careful about what he said next. "So...you don't remember anything about how," he gestured at Sparky's hand, "that...happened?"

"R-remember?" Sparky stuttered. His tongue darted out of his mouth, bearing an odd resemblance to a snake's as he tried to wet his lips. "No. Nah, n-n-not really, brah."

Sparky glanced around the room as he spoke, head moving in a series of obvious twitches and spurts. Greg blinked, watching on silently as Sparky continued his odd survey of the room, head shifting unnaturally to the left and right as if he meant to scratch one ear before changing his mind and heading for the other. "You okay, man?"

The half-Latino's head jerked back to face Greg, the movement so sudden that Greg forced himself not to jump back. "...yeah. Why?"

Greg raised an eyebrow. "You...uhhh...huh."

"What? What, brah? Something on my face?"

Greg stared into the unfamiliar, wide-eyed gaze of his best friend, blue eyes staring back into bloodshot amber. "No?"

"Then what, brah? You're kinda freaking me out here."

Greg blinked, leaning back against the wall. "I'm freaking you...whatever. Uhh...It's just…I get if you don't want to talk about it-"

"About what?" Sparky swallowed and Greg found himself staring into a face that seemed oddly resolved despite how strung out he might have appeared.

"Kinda what I'm talking about right there." He raised his hands up in the air, gesturing in Sparky's direction. "You're just…uhh," Greg ran a hand through his hair, moving back and forth as if trying to pull words from his scalp. "Look, man, you're kinda jumpy and on...edge, I guess?"

"Me? On edge?" Sparky's tongue flicked out again, trying desperately to impart moisture it didn't have before he took a deep breath. A moment later, he let out a sigh that seemed to rattle his thin frame.

The long-haired teen opened his mouth as if to say something before he went still again, amber eyes going distant again, this time staring at a blank portion of the wall as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Greg blinked in confusion before frowning. "Sparky!"

The long-haired teenager jumped, before his own eyes trained on Greg as if seeing him for the first time. "Yeah? On edge…" He made an odd movement, head moving from side to side in a way that wasn't quite a shake of the head before moving his chin in a quick up and down motion, as if just learning how to nod.

"Yeah, I'm...I know what you mean." Sparky let his jaw loosen and took in a raspy breath _._ The area around his stomach seemed to be shaking but Greg realized those were just his hands...moving erratically underneath his hoodie. "It's just...the whole thing at Fugly's...i-i-it just makes it...kinda hard, you know?"

"Yeah...I get it." _No, I don't._

"N-no, no-no, you don't, do you? You still can't lie for shit." The uncertainty in Greg's eyes was clear, even to someone as dazed and out of it as Sparky seemed. "Do you...do you even know what happened at Fugly's, brah? Do you?"

"I'm sorry, Sparky. I really don't know. I was...kinda out of it for most of yesterday." Greg flinched as Sparky's expression darkened at his answer. "What happened?"

"Y...you really don't know?"

Greg's silent shake of the head seemed to set off whatever Sparky was keeping contained as his friend's expression stopped just short of murderous.

"Fuck it, I-I-I...I don't even know what…" Sparky took another deep breath, hands falling out of his pockets and clenching into tense, vibrating fists. "...shit."

 _I gotta say something._ Greg grimaced as he watched his normally laid back friend almost fall over himself simply trying to get words out. _God, I have to say something._

Before he could, however, Sparky began again. "It was...just after you jumped to do whatever, you know. I...I sat back in the booth and then I turned around for one second and out of nowhere, everyone's losing their shit over this Asian girl that walked in." As he continued, Sparky began speaking faster, his limbs jerking and twitching more the faster his mouth moved, unfolding from his body in erratic gestures like some demented swiss army knife. "Then out of nowhere, she just...just...just…"

His voice trailed off and with it, the strange energy that fueled his movements. Again, Greg found himself looking on as Sparky's attention was captured by something he couldn't see or understand.

Greg reached for his friend, attempting to shake him to get him back to normal, only for Sparky to jump back before he could lay a hand on him, eyes wide and body shaking once again.

His mouth turned downwards into a grimace, his friend's uncharacteristic behavior the cause once again. "Sparky, what happened?"

Sparky shivered, the action making his whole body blur before stilling again. "She...she exploded, Greg. Maybe she was a cape, I don't fucking know. I barely remember how the shit went down. All I know is Fugly's exploded yesterday and 3 hours ago, I woke up. Thing is, I...I remember getting hit by whatever she did. I r-r-remember how much it hurt. I re...I remember the...the...my hands went...first, all crumbly and shit….and I...I...I…" Greg grimaced as his friend went to his knees, said hands shaking in front of him.

"I think I died, G." Long brown hair fell down over his friend's face, hunched over as he was on the floor, almost muffling the words that Sparky let out. Greg heard them regardless. "I died back there."

The words hung in the air.

A painful heat surged in Greg's chest and he felt the same tightness that he had become so familiar with, an almost painful feeling of compression that seemed to pulse with his heartbeat, screaming to be released.

 _Someone had to pay_ , it screamed. Someone had to suffer for this. _**Anyone**_.

This time, though, there was no target. Nothing Greg could punch, nothing he could scream at, nothing to focus exactly what he was feeling at right now. His skin itched as fire boiled inside his veins, begging to be let out.

It was...unsettling.

Unsure of what to do with himself, he slowly fell to his knees to match his friend and stared at the figure in front of him.

This was not his Sparky. This was not the guy who spent more time talking about drumming and guitars and music than he did on schoolwork. This was not the same person who spent half his time trying to talk to any girl who wouldn't simply write him off as a merchant at first sight. That Sparky would joke about almost getting stabbed by some Empire wannabe for being mixed, even laughing off being caught in the middle of a bunch of Merchants fighting during a drug deal. This was not **that** Sparky but he was still _his_ Sparky.

Kneeling down next to his friend, Greg raised a hand that felt far too heavy and laid it on his friend's shoulder, the two alone in silence.

"I...I'm sorry."

This time, it was Greg that broke the quiet. He felt himself cringe as he let out the words, fully aware of how weak they were.

Still, he had to say something, right?

"I'm sorry?" repeated Sparky. "What the fuck for? What did you do? Huh, G? Did y-you blow up Fugly's? K-k-kill a dozen people? D-did you?" The erratic movements were back, his friend's limbs cutting through the air with the same jerky movements and leaving Greg with the faint scent of ozone.

Greg found himself letting out a quiet, "...no."

"Then quit with the f-f-fucking sorry."

Greg flinched at his friend's words. "It's just...I...I should have been there. I went on the call and I was worthless over there. Did basically nothing that the PRT couldn't. I barely remember half of it. I got knocked out that quick." He shook his head before continuing, his voice much quieter. "I could have been there, man."

Sparky let out another breath, this one just as shaky and weak as the others. "Sure, you could have been there and watched as we all blew up. That'd be fun, right?" Sparky laughed weakly, the sound without any actual humour. "Look, I got everything out. I'm fine. Just let it go."

Greg shook his head again. "I'm just...I'm sorry." _Oh my God, stop talking._

"I say all that and you still fucking say, I'm s-sorry? Do you ever li...just listen, brah?" Another dry laugh followed his words. "Just let it go."

"...sorry." _Oh god, why can't I just shut up?_

"I know," Sparky responded, after a few seconds. "Of course you're sorry. You're always sorry. Your whole life is sorry." Sparky leaned back until he was fully laying on the floor, eyes locked on the spinning ceiling fan. "Dios mio, you're such a pussy, Greg."

Greg groaned, matching his friend's position on the ground. "I was trying to be nice, you know. You can be a real dick sometimes, Axel _Ignacio_ Ramos."

Sparky snickered next to him. "Oooh, my full name. I'm so scared. You gonna call my mom next? Tell her I didn't share my toys?"

Greg found himself rolling his eyes again, but couldn't bring himself to hide the growing smile on his face. "Oh, fuck right off." _I'm glad you're still you, man._

"Gladly."

Once more, there was silence between the two of them as they laid on the living room floor next to each other, staring up at the ceiling lights.

"So...what do you do?" Again, it was Greg who broke the silence.

"Do?"

Greg found himself rolling his eyes yet again. "You know what I mean, Sparky. Your powers? I know you're fast but that can't be it, right? Kinda lame if it was."

The dry look Sparky sent back to him was one that he was familiar with and the sight of it actually made him feel a bit better. "And what's wrong with being fast?"

Greg snorted. "Come on, Sparks. Velocity's fast. Freaking Velocity. Honestly, dude's a pretty shit hero. Any of the Wards would do better in the big leagues than Velocity."

Sparky made a noise that sounded vaguely positive before shrugging his shoulders in acceptance of his friend's point. "True, Velocity is pretty shit."

"I mean, look at me," Greg continued, "I can punch real hard, run real fast, I'm pretty darn tough, I can jump real high, I have laser hands, I think I can make force fields…"Greg trailed off as the dry look Sparky sent him earlier returned in full force.

"I get it, I get it, you're a one-man fucking New Wave, G. Could you chill with the explainbragging?" The half-Hispanic teen rolled his eyes at his friend before leaning back against the couch as he stretched out on the floor. "Not everyone hits the power lottery."

"Oh...uh," A tinge of red spread out on Greg's cheeks and he quickly sat up, coughing nervously into a single fist. "I didn't mean it like _that._ I was just…" His voice died again as he spotted his friends' raised eyebrow, as if waiting for him to keep bragging. "Anyway, I just meant that the way you hit me before...I felt that."

Sparky's eyebrow traveled higher. "And?"

Greg let out a sigh. "Dude, Lung hit me," his hand prodded the center of his chest experimentally, "What you did was like...really close to that. How?"

"Give me a s...s-s-second." Sparky held up a single finger.

For a second, Greg thought the finger was meant for him, telling him to wait, but then he realized just how _intently_ his friend was looking at it. _Is he out of it again?_

"Sparky?"

A sharp shushing sound was his friend's response, causing Greg to raise an eyebrow. _Okay? What's he doing?_

Sparky spent a few more seconds staring at his outstretched finger before clicking his tongue and letting out another shaky sigh. "F-f-fuck, I'm on empty."

"Empty?"

Sparky didn't respond, one hand busy unzipping the top of his hooded tracksuit while the other undid the bandana around his neck.

 _What is he…?_

"Sparky?"

Greg received a quizzical grunt from his friend in response as Sparky continued to disrobe, pulling off a skintight long-sleeved undershirt with the same blue-and-white color scheme as the rest of his appropriated clothing.

With one final tug, the undershirt came off Sparky's shoulders and joined his hoodie and bandana on the floor. His bloodshot eyes turned back to Greg and now he was the one to blink at his friend's expression.

Greg, himself, wasn't sure what to say, his attention captured by the markings that traced across his friend's chest and arms.

 _Lightning flowers._

It had been years since Greg had last seen them. He had been watching television and a man that had been caught in a lightning storm a month past had shown off scars he had received from a lightning strike that just happened to graze him. Nine-year old Greg had obsessed over the sight, going so far as to beg his mother for a tattoo of the pattern.

Six years later, he couldn't help but utter the same thing he had when he had first seen the phenomenon.

"Cool…"

Greg snapped back into attention as soon as the word left his lips and he stared into his friend's eyes, mouth open in shock and embarrassment. A hint of something passed through Sparky's expression for a second but Greg couldn't make it out before it disappeared.

"I...I didn't mean…That wasn't what I..."

Sparky waved off his friend's muttered apologies, a rueful smile playing at his lips. "It's fine. I always kinda wanted tats anyway. I mean, I would have preferred tribal shit but…too late, right?" He flicked his hand at his chest, directly where the lightning flowers seemed to converge, curling out from his back and arms.

"...Yeah, I guess," Greg responded, his tone slightly subdued.

"Anyway," Sparky began, "I gotta r-r-recharge. I only d-did this a couple t-times before so…" Sparky trailed off again, eyes trained on the wall. This time, he shook himself free from the daze before Greg could say anything.

"You mind?" Sparky gestured with his chin, bobbing his head towards where he had just been looking.

"I don't...sure," Greg shrugged, confused as to what exactly his friend meant.

"Cool." Sparky took a few steps toward the wall and hunched over once he was right next to an outlet. "S-s-see, th-the last time I did this was just a f-f-f-f-f-f-f…"Sparky's face dropped into a scowl and he took another raspy breath before continuing again. "I didn't mean to do it. W-w-woke up in the electronics section of the th-thrift store, naked on the cold-ass f-f-floor. Tried to pull myself up, ended up grabbing a...a...a…"

Sparky pursed his lips and stared upwards at Greg. "You know those th-th-things that you put a lot of p-power cords into...those long things."

 _What is he talki...oh._

Greg blinked as he realized what his friend was referring to. "You mean a surge protector?"

Sparky snapped his fingers and gave Greg a slow nod. "That's it. Surge protector, yeah. Anyway, I grabbed it and I had this feeling and...know what? Lemme show you."

Sparky slapped a hand onto the outlet and Greg watched as his entire body tensed.

Amber eyes widened and Sparky's back arched, his head falling back.

A single grunt preceded it.

Then the lights began to flicker. Greg glanced up hurriedly. _What the he-_

He didn't have the time to finish the thought. Blue eyes widened and Greg's mouth fell open as Sparky's lightning scars, the dark patterns on his tan skin, literally _glowed._ A whitish-blue light shone from his scars, the criss-crossing patterns turning his torso into a living light show.

For a moment, Greg thought that that was it. That is, until he saw the sparks.

A visible current of electricity traveled up his wrist, tracing the path of his lightning flowers, enhancing the glow.

Sparky gave one more grunt, this one louder and the lights flickered once more, before finally dimming and returning to normal.

With a sigh, this one nowhere near as weak and shaky as the last few, Axel Ramos rose to his feet. Bright amber eyes, no longer bloodshot, turned towards his friend and his mouth angled upwards in a somewhat familiar smirk.

"Pretty c-c-cool, huh? Freaked the shit out of me the first couple times." Sparky pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side before adding, "To be honest, I've never taken this much. Tried t-t-to ease it up but…" he shrugged. "Sorry if I fuck up your power bill."

Greg simply watched arcs of electricity dance along Sparky's scars.

"Huh."

* * *

"So, you figured out your powers when some homeless guys tried to beat you up when they were looting the thrift store?"

"Yep."

The two teenagers were in an odd position, leaning up against the long couch in Greg's living room as they lay on the floor. One could spend time wondering why they weren't just sitting on the couch as that would be much more comfortable.

One would be wasting their time.

"So," Greg began again, "how does that thing work anyway? The pain thingy you did to me. Is it like a taser?"

"I...guess?" Sparky's brow furrowed and he gave a weak shrug. "I jab people with a few fingers. A few seconds later, they go down screaming."

 _Go down screaming?_ Greg's eyes widened. _I didn't go down screaming._

"You used that pain thing on those homeless guys?"

"Yep." Sparky answered with as little effort as possible, his attention on the game show still playing on the tv.

Greg leaned forward, lifting his neck and part of his torso off of the couch as he glanced at his friend.

"You think they're okay?" Greg pursed his lips, confusion playing across his face as he realized he had asked the question with a lot more concern in his voice than he made sense when he thought about it, though. He knew firsthand how much that hurt and Greg was pretty sure his pain tolerance was higher than the average person's.

"Who?" Sparky looked over at Greg , his eyes moving more than his neck or head.

"The homeless guys, man."

"Probably. D-don't care either way." Sparky's response was glib, his uncaring tone only accentuated by the way he stretched out his arms and yawned, the polyester fabric of his hoodie stretching with him. "Not g-g-gonna worry about some dicks that tried to kill me."

Greg's lip curled just the slightest bit before he gave his friend a slow nod. He could see his point. _Still…_

"I mean, electricity is kinda dangerous."

Sparky's eyebrows bounced upwards and he gave a weak smile. "Preaching to the choir, brah."

Greg groaned internally. _Wrong choice of words._

"I mean, maybe you shouldn't go around shocking regular people." At his friend's quizzical expression, Greg continued. "I can take it but I'm you know...me. And from what you said, those guys sounded seriously hurt."

Sparky's lips turned downwards into a frown but he nodded slowly. "Whatever. Pretty sure I'm not shocking p-people, though."

 _Not shocking?_ Greg narrowed his eyes. "Then...then what are you doing?"

Sparky shrugged. "It's kinda hard to explain. It's like...like…"

Sparky grimaced and Greg noticed his eyes dull for a second before he shuddered, the action actually making his whole body blur for an instant. "Don't really feel like talking about it."

"What? Why not?"

"No reason. Just don't feel like it."

Greg opened his mouth to protest but the sudden change in his friend's mood was obvious even to him. Grasping for something to change the subject, his eyes spotted the commercial about frozen pizza on the television and before he knew it, his mouth was open.

"You hungry?"

"Yeah, I could go for something," was Sparky's less-than-emphatic response. "Kinda bored too. Not loving the daytime tv," he continued, bobbing his head towards the balding man on the screen hosting some sort of family game show.

"Same." _Any other day, we could've solved both problems by going out in the city._ Greg shrugged. _No chance of that now._

"I torrented some Aleph anime a couple weeks ago. I could hook it up to the TV, we could eat, hang out in here for a while."

Sparky nodded along, a genuine smile on his face. "What are we eating?"

"We have plenty of snacks in the pantry. I'll figure something out."

"So, what do you want me to do?""

Greg stayed silent as he hopped to his feet, stretching a hand out to his friend. "Just chill down here, I guess."

"Just chill?" Sparky grabbed the offered arm and Greg pulled him to his feet, not even registering his friend's weight.

"Yeah, I mean, why not?"

"If you want, brah."

Greg nodded his head, sharing a smile with his friend before turning around to walk towards the stairs, leaving Sparky standing alone in the living room.

Yet, as light as the mood had become, Greg knew that a simple smile on somebody's face didn't mean that they still weren't hurting inside. Even right now, he could barely get the image of Lung deciding to go after his mother out of his mind and that was just a possibility.

What had happened to Sparky- _I think I died, G.-_ was far too real to be ignored.

As Greg's foot touched the first step, he felt compelled to say something, even if only to make sure it'd be okay to leave his friend alone so close to a room full of sharp objects.

"Sparks, you sure you're feeling okay now?"

Sparky stared back at Greg, eyes blinking rapidly before narrowing to slits. "The fuck kinda question is...? Fuck no!"

Greg blinked back, surprised at the response. "I...I...thought…"

Sparky tilted his head and stared back at his friend with a quizzical expression. "What, you fucking thought a few laughs meant I'm good?"

Greg opened his mouth to protest, but shut it immediately as he realized telling his friend he wanted to put him on suicide watch would likely lead to a far worse situation.

 _Stop talking! You're just making it worse._

"I mean, fuck! Brah, I think I died. Literally! I'm pretty sure my _everything_ stopped. And you got the balls to ask me if I'm okay? Fuck no, I'm not okay!"

"I'm sor...I didn't mean...It's not lik-"

The furious look on Sparky's face vanished, to be replaced by a sunny one. "I'm fucking great, brah!"

Greg found himself dumbfounded again, feeling like a deer in headlights for the umpteenth time this week. "What."

 _What._

Sparky closed his eyes, a smug smile overtaking his bright grin. "I died, Greg. I died and I came back. You know what that means?"

Greg opened his mouth to respond but, unsurprisingly, Sparky was quicker.

"It means I'm immortal."

Greg's brain recovered from it's sudden stop and he let out an exasperated groan. "Oh my god, whatever this is, I'm not doing it," Greg found himself groaning again as he glanced at his friend's smug expression. "Did that juice-up give you brain damage or something?"

Sparky's smug expression remained despite the insult. In fact, Greg wasn't sure if his friend even registered his words.

"Have you ever died before, Greg? I'mma guess no, considering you'd be the first to talk about that type of shit. As the resident expert, I know one thing, G. People die when they are killed."

"Oh. My. God." Greg raked a hand down his face, once again letting out a frustrated groan as he did so. "This my punishment for showing you that Aleph anime, isn't it?"

"Ergo," Greg was ignored yet again as Sparky continued, "As someone who was killed and yet is not d-dead, I am, henceforth, immortal."

Greg shot his friend a dry look. "Ergo, henceforth? Do you actually know what those mean?"

"Mmmm", Sparky let out a self-satisfied hum. "Bitch, you're just j-jealous 'cause I'm an immortal lightning g-god."

"Whatever, man," Greg shot back as he continued walking up the stairs. _Yeah, he's okay._

"Don't be jealous, G. Not everyone can be this lucky." Sparky snapped his fingers at Greg's back.

As he saw Greg leave and heard the upstairs bedroom door close, Sparky fell back, slamming himself down onto the couch with little care. His smile dimmed to almost nothing as he raised one shaky hand to his face, eyes dulling once more as arcs of electricity jumped from finger to finger.

"Yeah, n-n-n-not everyone."

* * *

 **Hello, all.**

 **What up?**

 **Just want to thank you again for reading this chapter.**

 **Is it shit? It's probably total shit.**

 **Might be. Who cares? You probably do 'cause you're reading it.**

 **Anyway, yeah, Sparky has powers. It might not seem like it but I kinda planned this from day one. I feel like Greg is a little too milquetoast by himself and he needed someone to keep him grounded.**

 **(Hehe, Sparky…Grounded? _Ehhh?_ )**

 **Accidental humor aside, yeah, the guy's nickname was Sparky. That was begging for a power. I had to. I literally couldn't resist. For a while, I actually was thinking, "Hey, what if you don't give Sparky powers? Instead, kill him by electrocution and have Greg work Search and Rescue so he can be the one to find his only friend's charred and blackened body. Wouldn't that be just as good?"**

 **Luckily for you, I'm not entirely evil.**

 **I want to announce that I have an official beta now. Redeemthefallen, a super nice person, will be helping me to officially beta all my chapters from now on. I really want to give them thanks. I finally have an official beta.**

 **Also, thanks goes to Dino Goddess, pug_empress and FenFen on the "r/fanfiction" Discord Server for helping to beta this chapter in the early stages. Awesome people.**

 **Special thanks to FenFen for giving this chapter one final look-over before posting.**


	54. Interlude 2l: ? ? ?

Interlude:? ? ?

* * *

"¡Hijeputa!"

Jin Soo Park shoved open the door of the liquor store, paying no mind to the store owner even as the older man screamed obscenities at his back. It wasn't as if he could understand him anyway. Letting the rickety glass pane slam behind him, the young Korean let out a sharp breath, the cold New England air catching it and making it visible.

"¡Percanta! Usted maldito a ladrón! Juro a Dios, usted tendrá que pagar por esto!"

A mean smirk on his face, Jin Soo raised his left hand, the one clasped around an open bottle of _soju,_ a catch-all term for Korean vodka, and raised it to his mouth. He heard a gasp and more angry curses from inside the liquor store and opened a single eye to watch the Hispanic owner gape as he drank right in front of his establishment.

Jin stepped back from the door, walking away from the convenience store slowly as he drank the stolen product. He had nothing to fear from the older man and he knew it. In fact, the man was scared enough that he resorted to cursing at him in another language.

Jin took another gulp, smirking as he brought the bottle away from his lips. "Whadya gonna do about it, old bitch?"

The store owner, braver than Jin had expected, ran around the counter, stumbling over himself as he tried to move in a way that was reserved for men at least half of his age.

For a moment, Jin flinched as he spotted a large object in the man's arms with a familiar dark glint. His free hand reached for his waistband, tightening around the weapon at the small of his back. The older man seemed to recognize the motion for what it was as his eyes widened and he froze right before touching the door. Jin took a step forward, only relaxing his grip once the man raised his hands up to his head.

The object in the store owner's hand fell to the ground and Jin crinkled his nose as he realized what it was.

 _A metal bat? This fuck thinks a bat scares me?_

The fact that he had actually been scared for a moment didn't seem to register. Anger flashed into Jin's expression, forcing a scowl onto his face.

Glancing at the liquor still in his hand, Jin hurled the half-empty bottle as hard as he could, his frown shifting into a smirk as he caught the look of fear in the store owner's face as it rocketed towards him. The sound of breaking glass filled the air and Jin let out a low cackle as the man ducked to avoid shards of glass from raining down on his face. "Tasted like shit anyway!"

To rub salt into the wound, Jin used his free hand to show the store owner exactly what he thought of him and his shit excuses with a single gesture, as if stealing from him and destroying his door didn't deliver the message well enough.

 _Serves you right,_ thought the young man bitterly. _Out of cigarettes when I need them._

Jin's smirk shifted back to a scowl as he recalled the store owner's excuse. _Somebody broke in and only stole cigarettes? Bullshit. Who the fuck steals only cigarettes? Only one brand, too?_

Either way, he had seen this store before. For someplace relatively close to the edge of ABB territory, the old man was smart enough to lock the place tighter than a vault, in case … well, in case something like last week happened. While the first part of the story made sense, the fact that he was down to one brand of cigarettes - Red Apple - because the riots prevented him from restocking. However, the rest of it made no sense at all.

 _Who in the hell breaks in, takes no money and nothing else, and steals only cigarettes?_

With all the windows unbroken and no signs of forced entry, he doubted the old guy's shit story was anything but that - total bullshit.

Still scowling, the young gangster walked off. He didn't bother running because he knew the emergency services were still busy in Downtown, running Search & Rescue, putting out fires, shit like that.

Parts of the city were still smoking, some buildings caved in and rendered useless from the riots of just six days ago, but Lung's territory was still pristine, for the most part. The best thing about the whole situation to Jin was that he didn't really have to do much of anything apart from leading around some of those idiots with the bomb in their heads and trying not to get arrested or killed. The worst part was how he got such a relatively cushy position.

Jin knew he was not the most threatening of people. With a face that belonged on a K-pop idol, long hair and a thin, willowy body, he had to act a lot tougher than he looked in order to fit in among the ABB.

Lucky for him, Bakuda liked his looks. At least, she liked him enough to not stick a bomb in his head when he pissed her off. Very few of the ABB who actually had to stay around her could say the same.

Jin ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair as he walked, simply to do something with his hands. He was already feeling it. He hadn't had a smoke since yesterday, right after the Bomb Bitch had him running errands for her, which meant going to the stores that were still open all the way on the other side of the city.

Jin didn't even get why she was still in charge. He thought they were gonna break out Lung but instead the Japanese bitch had them running all over the city like chickens. If anything, he doubted the bitch even knew what she wanted.

Jin let out a low, shaky breath, fingers twitching as he tried to work away the numbness creeping up them. Thursday's nonsense already fucked with his nerves. Police and PRT shooting at them, molotovs splashing back, fucking idiots making bombs go off prematurely. The mystery sniper in Downtown Brockton was another fucking problem to add to all that, especially considering he disabled around twenty of the _special_ bombs. To top it all off, when he wasn't running for his life from the cops, he had to deal with some disgusting _bitch_ losing her shit all because he bought the wrong sort of tampons.

Signing up with Lung was supposed to be about drugs, money and power, not to play lackey to a dumb bitch on a power trip.

"Ughh…"

A blinding pain in his temples interrupted Jin's train of thought. _Fuck, I need my cigs!_

Nicotine withdrawal was a goddamn bitch and one he tried to avoid fucking with. Jin paused his stride and leaned against a graffitied wall, trying to maintain his balance as he fought the urge to hurl. He knew damn well that if he didn't get his fix soon, he'd be painting the ground with whatever was in his stomach.

The Korean thug bent over, one arm clutching his stomach as the other gripped the wall for support, already feeling waves of nausea hitting him. _My fingers already feel all weird, tingly and shit..._

"Fuck… me."

Jin groaned as he lay against the dirty, litter-filled sidewalk, looking like a strung-out druggie. Two days ago was when he had his last cigarette, the rest of his pack taken from him by his bitch of a boss. Nobody else seemed to have any, at least none they wanted to share. He definitely couldn't call anyone he knew at the hideout to come get him. _And give them more ammo to use on me? Fuck that._

One hand flew to his mouth and he let out another groan as his stomach protested. His withdrawals were always the worst, showing up after less than a day of trying to quit. Nausea, headaches, stomach pain … _irritability_ , they alway had to hit him like a truck.

It was always at times like this, moments when he was stupid enough to think he could quit, where he would think to himself, _Why the fuck did I ever pick up a cig-_

"Hello, do you need some help?"

 _Wha-?_

Jin Soo scrambled back against the wall, pushing away from the voice that had interrupted his thoughts.

With his head laying on the sidewalk the way it was, the first thing he saw was a pair of blue loafers sitting below freshly pressed khakis. Raising his head, he glanced at the upper half of the figure standing next to him, eyes narrowing as he took in his appearance.

Brown skin. Blue sweater. White dress shirt. Black tie. Blue… fanny pack?

 _The fuck?_

Of all the things that he could say were the most out of place in this damaged area of the Downtown Coast, so close to one of Lung's dens, Jin would have to say it was the wide and kind smile on the young black man's face. Fucking disgusting.

 _The fuck is he so happy for? No, fuck that! The fuck is he doing so close to ABB territory?_ Jin's thoughts progressed along this line as he glared up at the other man. Something about him - he wasn't sure what - but something about him pissed him the fuck off.

This one sided staring contest continued for a bit until the man crouched at Jin's side, hand stretched out.

"Don't … don't fucking touch me!" Jin spat, his teeth bared in a snarl.

The man's hands pulled themselves back to his sides and Jin watched him carefully as he raised them up to his face in the universal symbol for "Don't hurt me."

"That's fine. That's fine. Just thought you might need some help."

"I … I don't!" Even as he said that, Jin had to raise a hand to his mouth to hold back the bile that he felt rising. He swallowed and let out an audible groan. _Fuck, why's it gotta burn going down?_

Judging from the man's expression, Jin doubted he actually believed him.

"Are you sure about that? I'm an EMT."

"A what?"

"Emergency medical … " the man paused and smiled softly once more. "I work inside of an ambulance."

"Good for you. Now, go the fuck away." Jin scowled at the man, teeth bared. "I'm not sick. I just need some fucking cigarettes."

The stranger didn't so much as flinch. "I can tell. Nicotine withdrawal definitely isn't fun. " The strange guy gave him a soft smile and Jin found himself squirming under his gaze. "Then again, any type of withdrawal is far from pleasant."

 _Why is this fuck so nice? What's his angle?_

"You're certainly not in any condition to walk anywhere. Is there any place I can take you?"

Jin growled, frustration boiling over at this nosy fuck who _wouldn't leave him alone_. "Why the fuck do you care? The fuck are you even doing here?"

"Well, if you must know," The stranger gave Jin one of those confusing smiles again. "I'm planning on opening a free clinic in this area. You know, something that could help the community."

Jin stared up at him, utterly confused. "A free clinic? Here? Two blocks away from ABB territory,. That's a stupid-ass idea."

The stranger let out a soft laugh. "Yes, I know. Still, everyone needs help. People get shot, stabbed, beat up … all the time. It must happen almost constantly around this area."

Jin groaned again as his stomach threatened to revolt but his mind was busy, contemplating the man's words. _What is with this guy?_

"You know … ughh … that the ABB will kill you if they spot you too close."

There was that smile again, too white teeth flashing for just a moment before the lips closed.

"Fair point, but I like to assume the best of people. _You_ certainly don't seem like you're in a position to hurt me."

Jin's eyes widened. "You … you knew?"

"Of course I knew," the stranger said with a shake of his head. He gestured to Jin's tattooed arms. "You weren't exactly trying to hide it."

"Huh." _Maybe this guy's not so bad._

"So, mind if I get you some help?' The black man stretched out his hand again and this time, Jin didn't recoil. "Or at the very least some nicotine patches and a good meal. If you really do need them, I have cigarettes at home. Just warning you, they're flavored, so they might not be your type."

"What flavor, grape?"

The stranger didn't seem to register the semi-racist retort, instead replying, "No. Apple, in fact."

The young gangster's eyes widened slightly at the slightly older man's words. "Red Apple … like the brand?" His favorite brand, in fact.

"I think so." The stranger nodded slowly, as if almost unsure of his own words. "I don't smoke, but a few friends of mine left some packs around and I've taken to keeping them simply to offer guests. You can have them if you'd like."

"You'd just … ugh … you'd just give them to me?"

"I don't see why not," the stranger said with a raised eyebrow. "You seem like you need it more than I do."

"Huh." Jin let out a small smile as he finally understood why he found himself trusting the guy.

 _He's definitely one of those._

Bleeding hearts, people who went out of their way to help _"_ the unfortunate", usually found themselves the target of people who had no problem taking advantage of them. When he was younger, doing runs for the street gangs in Seoul, he had done his fair share of it himself, helping older kids mug people who followed a sick-looking child into an alley.

Not to mention, from what Jin could see of the stranger's body, he was very...

Cheeks already flushing, Jin shook his head before his thoughts could go that far. _Not this! Not right now._

The ABB wasn't the most progressive of criminal groups, after all. Some … behaviours just weren't tolerated. Jin glanced back up at the smiling figure, noting the full lips and dark eyes as if for the first time, and once again had to fight off a blush.

 _God, I'm just being paranoid._

Still, even if the guy tried something, he already had his piece tucked into his waistband.

"That … that sounds okay."

"Great." Jin grabbed hold of the strange man's outstretched arm and found himself being pulled up, one arm resting over the stranger's shoulder as he supported Jin's weight. "I've got a place a block that way. You okay walking for a bit?"

Jin held back a scowl. The idea of walking anywhere right now wasn't appealing but he'd do it for a smoke and he certainly didn't mind the way the man held him. As they began walking down the sidewalk, the stranger performing most of the effort, Jin turned to the side and said, "The name's Jin, by the way. Jin Soo."

"Jin?" The stranger said in an inquisitive tone. "Korean?"

"Yeah. How'd you guess?"

"I spent some time in Korea. Met some interesting people down there." Jin quirked an eyebrow as the stranger's voice took on a weird tone but the young gangster soon forgot about it as another wave of nausea struck him.

"By the way, Jin," Jin turned back to face the stranger as he heard his name, "you can call me Terrence."

* * *

 **04/22/2011**

 **9:21 AM EST**

* * *

Terrence held the knife above the old and rusted steel sink, tunelessly humming as he used a mix of oxygenated bleach and distilled water to clean his weapon of blood.

While not his ideal bladed weapon of choice, he rather enjoyed this knife simply because of how easy it was to clean. Keeping his fingers away from the absurdly sharp blade was a necessity, but apart from rinsing it with some chemically treated water, there wasn't much he had to do for it.

A few meters away, the cooling form of Jin Soo Park lay slumped against the dilapidated wall of the abandoned apartment, his corpse still chained to one of the old radiators this derelict building seemed to be full of. Blue plastic sheets hung from three different walls while one covered the disgusting floor of the apartment itself, keeping the body and Terrence's equipment free from dirt and insects.

The body itself was littered with knife wounds, each less than half an inch long. With a slight numbing solution applied to the blade itself shortly before he began, the wounds were not all that painful, in fact.

With the psychological damage said process inflicted, however, it really hadn't taken long at all before the young Korean spilled his guts.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Bringing the knife up to eye-level with one hand, Terrence lifted a dark cloth in the other and began carefully wiping down the blade. Unlike his other bladed weapons, this knife was made with obsidian, the dark material glinting as he held it at eye level. While it was one of the sharpest ones he had, not including his Tinker-made knives, using it for any direct confrontation would be foolish due to how brittle it could be. Sadly, it rarely saw use. What use did he have for a knife when most of his targets were never within arms reach?

Still, for those rare moments when it did finally meet bare flesh, the blade was incredibly effective, allowing him to part flesh with barely any pressure. This blade, unlike many others, imparted the feeling of a surgeon as he held it, instead of that of a butcher. Pausing in the care of his knife, Terrence turned around again to note his handiwork, staring at yet another corpse he would leave behind.

The young man's skin served as a final testament to his life, stories of his chosen path etched upon his still-bleeding body. Colorful marked him as a criminal - once that of the proud South Korean _kkangpae,_ now modified, anglicized - with a stylized Chinese dragon at the center, showing that his allegiance belonged to the Dragon of Kyushu himself. He would never be nothing more than a criminal, etching a life out on the street. No father, no mother, no family but the Azn Bad Boys.

Some would call what Terrence did merciful.

He didn't care. It made no difference to Terrence, civilian or criminal. He didn't care much for the identity of the target. Once identified, it was only a matter of time before he would carry out the execution.

Or, in this case, extraction.

The extraction in this case had been relatively simple. The target, a known gofer and assistant for the ABB's new boss, was simply another step on his path to his final objective. Information offered by several of the ABB's now-deceased veteran members gave him the majority of the information he needed to know regarding the lesser-known Jin Soo.

Information involving the target's behaviours, capabilities and appearance had been provided and noted.

Those relevant to the mission included statements that the target:

 ***** lacked masculine facial features and wore long hair.

 ***** had a thin frame with little to no muscle definition.

 ***** was believed to be homosexual by several of those who knew him.

 ***** had an addiction to cigarettes and a preference for a specific brand of cigarettes.

 ***** withdrawal symptoms were quick to set in and extremely debilitating.

With all of these factors combined, it had taken him less than a few hours to put together a reasonable plan and a little over two days to conclude reconnaissance of the target as well as his location and habits. Ironically, after reconnaissance of the target's location was considered sufficient, Terrence found that the majority of the information he intended on collecting from Jin was already accounted for.

Strange how things work out.

With the knowledge that only a single convenience store within a five-block range was currently open, all that was needed was for that location to be infiltrated. The removal and destruction of the store's remaining stock of cigarettes was necessary, ensuring that the target would be weak and available for extraction without the use of force.

With the offer of nicotine, a warm meal and kind behavior on his part serving as primary, secondary and tertiary calming factors, the target walked himself into the location Terrence had secured a few days prior and before he could react, he was incapacitated and being prepped for questioning.

It seemed, on occasion, that situations often fell into place on their own.

Terrence placed his now clean knife down and plunged his hand into the near-boiling water that he had filled the large sink with. He pulled his arm out of the scalding water, a large pair of pruning shears rising out with him as he grasped them tightly.

The dark-skinned young man walked carefully over to the corpse of the eighteen-year-old and opened the shears with a soft, metallic screech.

The job of removing identifying feature from a body was a distasteful task and one Terrence preferred to avoid, but with someone as… _memorable_ as Jin Soo, such steps had to be taken.

There was a sound of creaking metal again and a wet _schlick_ sound as three fingers fell on the blue plastic at once, blood from the stump they came from dripping and pooling around them.

Yes, things can work themselves out on their own. However...

 _Sometimes,_ Terrence thought aloud, raising the bloody shears again, _one has to do things for himself.\_

* * *

 **04/22/2011**

 **10:11 AM EST**

* * *

It was time.

Weeks of preparation, days of reconnaissance, hours of information gathering. This was the culmination of it all.

The information he received from the last only served to verify and expand on what he had received from the other three ABB veterans, all of their knowledge confirming that this building held his target.

Terrence was still, his body perched atop a building directly across from the location he was currently watching. He was out in full costume now, one of them at least. His chest was covered by a titanium chestplate, tinted a dark indigo color, that wrapped around his back, over his shoulders and under his crotch to latch on to to a turtle-like shell on his back in which his tools were stored. His feet, knees, shoulders and elbows were armored with the same material while on his face he wore a skull-like mask with crosses at the sides of his small white lenses. The metal parts itself were attached to a black bodysuit made from a Kevlar-Nomex blend.

The suit itself was one he hadn't used in a while, his preference for recon, stealth and long-range terminations not usually requiring such _heavy_ armoring. However, it would be useful for today.

Dark eyes scanned the environment from behind dark, violet-tinted goggles as he simply watched, searching for anything new that could jeopardize the mission.

The building he was scoping, once a shady tenement the ABB used to house some of their more recently acquired sexual chattel in between locations, now served as a hideout for the ABB. A simple den with three stories worth of guards and one young woman below all that, sequestered in some expanded basement structure.

 _Bakuda_. That's what she called herself.

It didn't necessarily matter to him what she chose to be referred as, bastardization of the Japanese language aside. Within six hours, she would be dead.

A part of him felt regret that he couldn't promise the same for Lung. A simple SVD in his hands to penetrate his slightly-tougher than normal skull, possibly a Longbow if he caught the parahuman in a tense moment.

Just like that, the man would be gone and the ABB would collapse in on itself without their mythical dragon of a leader providing them that illusion of strength and untouchability that even the Empire didn't seem to share.

However, that was **not** the priority.

Allowing his thoughts to fade, Terrence focused his attention back on the location.

Five ABB members at the front steps, looks of boredom on their faces as they sat there.

Picking them off would be easy. From the information he gathered, Terrence knew there was also a side door and a back door, but both were tripped with alarms and bombs, rendered utterly worthless as entrances. Not worth the risk.

None of the guards were equipped with anything more protective than some old bulletproof vests, either purchased or stolen from some military surplus store.

He watched, silent and unmoving, as several of the men took deep gulps from brown bottles and aluminum cans. Alcohol, no doubt.

 _Idiots._ The thought came into mind immediately. Drinking out in the open when the entire city is on alert, waiting for the next bomb to go off. It was unbelievably stupid but then again, he didn't expect them to be intelligent. No, if they were actually capable of rational thought, they might actually serve as complications.

Although, what could they really do to him? This was his environment, after all. Waiting for the right moment, watching the targets, scoping the land. These were skills he perfected with years of experience and training.

This was his jungle and he was the predator.

Terrence kept still as he could, his eyes roaming over the building once more.

While he was well aware of the situation outside the den, he was still unsure of the exact number of assailants that he was at risk of encountering. Previous reconnaissance had given him numbers but those tended to shift depending on time of day and he was not interested in being caught unaware.

A single gloved hand rose to the side of his helmet, tapping a button hidden by one of the stylized purple crosses that adorned his skull-shaped faceplate.

Dark lenses flashed violet as a HUD appeared in his field of vision, giving him additional information, the most useless being the time. He didn't need to know the time. He already knew it. He always did.

Terrence narrowed his eyes as silhouettes began to appear behind the walls of the tenement, each showing up as little more than a violet-colored blobs of vaguely-human shape in the HUD.

A box popped up over to the left of his vision, a counter rapidly increasing as each figure appeared on screen, the recognition software categorizing them as separate individuals until it settled on...

 _21 targets._

He mentally added the five outside and the primary target who went unseen by his scanner to the total, which meant…

 _27._

Among them, he doubted that they'd have more than basic weaponry inside. Nothing above a few Mossbergs, Glock 17s, Ravens, Jennings and more than likely, some cheap revolvers as well.

 _Semi-automatic rifles are most likely a possibility considering this is a guard outpost._

Turning off his scanner, Terrence plunged both hands into the shell-like container on his back. The seemingly rigid metallic material parted at his touch and he withdrew two guns from the container, the shell closing up with a nearly-silent _hiss._

In his right hand, he now held one of his most commonly used handguns, the **Taka AP-8**. A black and silver pistol with an extended 21 round box magazine, it weighed approximately 2.24 kg and was capable of three modes of fire at the press of a button. Heavy, but ideal for almost any situation at medium range.

The **Axis Striker 15** sat in his left palm, a steely gray and silver pistol that served him adequately as an ideal close quarters weapon due to it's high capacity and rate of fire, allowing him to forego the use of a sub-machine gun.

Behind the mask, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards: the closest thing he had to a natural smile.

Dropping the pistols into his thigh holsters, Terrence slunk over to the side of the roof overlooking an alley, keeping his body low and out of sight of the likely drunken gangsters. He hit the edge, sliding off the roof without hesitation and dropped two stories, landing on his feet with only the slightest noise.

This was it.

He exited the alley in full costume and rushed towards the building he had just been on top of, the gang members too drunk to notice someone heading towards them. Without pausing, he pulled out his pistols from his thigh holsters, applying suppressors to both in one smooth movement.

One of the guards, as drunk as he was, lifted his head at that moment and his eyes widened.

An instant later, the man's head jerked back as a single shot passed through his skull, painting the wall behind him with blood and brain matter and sending pieces of brick flying.

The moment the bullet carved a path through the gangster's head, his friends reacted as expected, jumping off the front stairs with eyes wide and shouts of alarm.

A scream of pain erupted from another man as a gunshot ripped through his stomach, forcing him to his knees. A second round struck the same man center-mass, forcing his body to drop to the ground.

Number three raised his gun the moment his friend went down but his inebriation made him sluggish, the moment's hesitation being all the time Terrence needed. A moment later, the third ABB slumped over on the ground as a bullet struck him in the chest, immediately stopping his heart.

A bald one with a bandana around his head yelled out, pulling a revolver from his waistband and his still-living partner, the fifth, copied the action, retrieving a pistol and wielding a switchblade in the other hand.

Terrence leapt into the air, avoiding two bullets that would have struck him if he had remained there. Momentum carried him forward several meters and he landed in a crouch, rolling on his back and and squeezing the trigger twice as he hit the ground.

To his left, number four fell to the ground, his neck bearing a new opening. Number five moved out of the way at the last moment, the bullet not even grazing his ear as he stumbled.

Terrence narrowed his eyes at the man's unintentional feat, the fact that he'd actually missed the drunk gang member grating on his nerves before he tamped down the surge of emotion.

Within the same moment, Terrence extended his leg, snapping it upward to strike the fifth guard in the wrist, causing the man to drop his pistol with a howl of pain. Jumping up into a standing position, Terrence narrowly avoided the man's clumsy attempt to strike him with the knife he held in the other hand. The guard lashed out again with the small blade, an angry curse in Japanese his battle cry. Terrence reacted quickly, slamming the bottom of his heavy pistol into the man's skull as he leaned into the punch, forcing the bleeding guard onto the concrete and the blade flying out of his grip.

Without pausing to look, he pulled the trigger.

And then there was silence.

The skull mask tilted upwards, his lenses glinting brighter for an instant to verify something he already knew.

 _15 seconds before the closest ABB reaches the first floor._

Holstering his Taka and Axis, Terrence thrust a hand into his pack, the device parting around his hand again and withdrew a metallic sphere.

With practiced ease, he split the ball in half, exposing the glowing circuitry inside. As he crossed the threshold, Terrence pushed the halves into the door frame, where they stuck of their own accord.

Means of egress secured, he tapped his palm four times, the action causing four small silver balls to fall into his palm from a container in his glove. Dropping them onto the floor with seemingly no regard for where they ended up, he continued walking through the run-down lobby at a brisk pace, paying little attention to the filth that permeated his surroundings.

Following Mr. Soo's instructions, he quickly burst through a door that had the words _Boiler Room_ on it. Right as he ducked in, he heard the first ABB member run down the stairs from the second floor, screaming bloody murder.

 _The boiler room is on the opposite side of this building, which means…_

As he predicted, Terrence found himself in a dark stairwell littered with random electronic equipment and, in some areas, dripping with strange chemicals. The litter and mess only increased the further down he went, moving carefully so as not to attract undue attention.

Jin had been very vocal on his boss's habits, what she liked to eat… _her sleep schedule._

Terrence knew that as long as he'd timed this right - **10:14 AM EST** \- and he was sure he had, his target would be waking up in less than a minute.

The stairwell opened to a single well-lit room that was rather large for being located relatively deep beneath an abandoned apartment building.

Tables filled three-quarters of the room, tables and shelves stocked with boxes and random metal scrap. The final quarter of the room consisted of a single bed, where a tousled figure was currently rising to her feet.

Her hands stretched above her head as she let out a yawn, the action raising the slightly oversized shirt she wore to sleep above her waistline, displaying a pair of underwear that seemed out of place on a mass-murdering villainess.

"Oi, Girlyface! Where's my fucking breakf-?" The interim gang boss turned around and paused upon catching sight of Terrence in his heavy armor, the unexpected sight causing the gang boss to flinch.

The young Asian woman caught herself before she could jump, however, and tried to retool her expression into one of disdain.

Terrence almost smiled. There was no hiding the fear in those eyes.

"The f-fuck are you?" Bakuda spat, the fear in her tone masquerading as vehement rage. "A new recruit? Where the fuck is Girlyface?"

"If you mean Mr. Jin Soo Park, and I believe you do," Terrence spoke, his mask distorting his voice rather well, "you can find his remains somewhere in the Brockton Bay sewer system."

The flinch returned and, for the life of him, Terrence was unsure if it was his voice or what he said that brought it back.

Bakuda took a step back at his words, a bead of sweat already trailing down her brow. "You killed Girlyface? You're not a…"

"A hero?" Terrence finished the sentence for her, "No. No, I'm not. The term you're looking for is free agent, one you would consider a _rogue_." As he said the words, he lifted his Taka from his thigh holster, pointing it at the Asian woman.

Bakuda took another step back, the action forcing her to stumble as the back of her knees hit the futon she had just been sleeping on. She tried to keep her eyes on his but it seemed she couldn't ignore the weapon being pointed directly at her. "If you're not a hero, then what the fuck do you want with me?"

"It's very simple. The first thing I want is for you to _stop moving towards the bombs you have underneath your bed._ "

Bakuda stilled, her face frozen in a rictus. "I-I don't...know wh-"

"Lie and I shoot you."

Her fear was evident once again by the tensing of her muscles.

Five simple words was all it took to be sure she wouldn't try anything. For all her bravado, Bakuda was still a human being, physically and emotionally. Even with all the prowess she possessed mentally, she could still easily be brought down by anyone, at least when caught unaware.

The same could be said for any Tinker, really.

"Fine, I w-won't try anything." Her eyes darted to the many, many shelves and tables that filled the room but she didn't move a muscle. The fact that she'd been caught unaware in what should have been her bastion of security mu"What do you want?"

"I want many things from you, Mrs. Lin," she started again as he used her real name, but he paid her reaction no mind, "and you will give them to me, whether you like it or not."

Bakuda took in a sharp breath before exhaling shakily. "F-fine."

"Good. Now, first things first…," he paused, watching as she hung at his word.

"Strip."


	55. Interlude 2m: Azn Bad Boys

Interlude: Azn Bad Boys

* * *

It made no sense to Keito. _Why him?_

He was no one in the ABB, little more than a rookie himself.

If the ABB were more like the Triads, he would be considered a sort-of street level _Sin Fung._ If this was the Yakuza, he would be _kyodai._ Both relatively low-level positions in organizations that originated from cultures that prided themselves on ritual, tradition, and respect for seniority.

Yet, he had been chosen. Him of all people.

An eighteen-year-old who was stuck with the lofty jobs of keeping track of weapons and preventing cocky teenagers with guns from killing each other over stupid shit.

 _Why?_

Rivulets of sweat trailed down his brow and he turned his head slightly, enough to catch sight of the figure standing in the corner just at the edge of his vision.

A bright red oni mask stared back at him, white horns curling upwards and black eyeholes boring deep into him the longer he looked.

The room was small and dim, lit only by one lightbulb hanging from the center of the room. This only aided his black bodysuit when it came to blending into the darkness but the brightness of the mask only made him that much more obvious and that much more frightening.

Slowly turning back to face the table, Keito forced his breathing to calm down.

Those empty eyes had appeared in front of him suddenly just a few hours ago, Oni Lee's preferred method of transportation surprising him out of his bed. Thick gloved hands had clasped themselves around his mouth, silencing him before he could make a noise.

While his sudden entrance into Keito's apartment was shocking enough, what the parahuman did next frightened the young Japanese man to his core.

He spoke.

In hindsight, the words that the bomber cape spoke were far more shocking but as far as he knew, Oni Lee had never done so much as spoken a single word. It had taken him far too long to do more than stare at the masked man after he croaked out a sentence.

Keito shook his head, turning his attention back to those who had gathered here.

The gathered group was small, ten men altogether. Five sat on one side of the table, five on the other. If this was a normal meeting on a normal day, they would be glaring at each other with barely disguised distrust, for the most part.

However, this was not a normal day and far from a normal meeting, so their attention was focused on the front of the room, directly at Keito. All of them saw the masked figure in the corner of the room. None of them dared stare, though. They knew firsthand that the Oni was not someone that they dare irritate.

Keito felt himself wilting at the attention, unprepared for such focused distaste being sent his way. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, he stepped forward, shaking arms clasped behind his back.

 _No mistakes. No mistakes. No mistakes._

"Five hours ago," he began in perfect English, wincing as several eyes narrowed at his New England accent. He couldn't help it. So much as attempting a Japanese accent was impossible for him without sounding like a racist caricature.

"Five hours ago," he began again, "the den Bakuda used to house her Tinker lab was attacked. Several of the guards that were placed as her guards were found with bullet wounds and the building itself was leveled by powerful explosives. Bakuda herself is missing and presumed dead."

Someone - he couldn't see who in the dim lighting - spoke up, voice gravelly but with a distinct Japanese accent, decided to speak up. "And who leads the ABB now? Is it...the Oni?"

Several heads tilted forward, leaning towards Keito, waiting for the young man to answer them.

Again, none dared look directly at the Oni himself.

Keito gulped.

The question alone had sparked interest in the group, the chance for advancement causing several of them to murmur.

"N-no, Kumichō," he began, addressing his now-former boss by his title. "I...I am the one in charge."

There was silence at his declaration, the ten men looking back and forth at each other as if they could possibly have heard him wrong.

Then, one man laughed. With one person laughing, it was as if a dam broke and several others chuckled as well. Some didn't, choosing instead to glare at him as they did before.

Again, Keito had to wonder, _Why me?_

The one who laughed first spoke again, his words somewhat hard to pick out through his heavy Vietnamese accent. "You want us to accept this? Why we listen to you?" Turning his head to face the other bosses, he asked, "Who knows this boy? Is he ABB?"

"I have no idea who this one is. I see no reason to follow him," spoke another, possibly Taiwanese.

"I know him," spoke the gravelly Japanese-accented voice once again. The room quieted as he spoke. "Keito Amagi. My boys dragged him in three years ago. Tried to interrupt a pick-up," Keito suppressed a flinch at the euphemism he used for kidnapping. "He was Japanese so I gave him a choice. Join up or I dump his body in the Bay."

 _Hayao Shiba,_ Keito mentally spat as he finally connected the voice with a name. The Japanese boss of the ABB, the bastard was far more vicious than most and handled the majority of the "pick-ups" by having his boys spread to other cities. Of the ten heads, he had the most men and therefore, the most influence with Lung when it came to how the gang ran things.

"How many times did you try to run, Amagi?" Keito's knuckles whitened as he clenched them tightly, the mocking tone in the man's voice grating on his nerves. "How many times did my boys drag your ass back here bleeding? Get out of here, kid. You ain't leading shit."

"I called you here, didn't I?" Keito's eyes widened as the words, tinged with a hint of annoyance, slipped out without him intending to.

The Japanese man leaned even further forward, head falling below the haze of smoke for a moment and allowing Keito to glimpse his scarred, scowling face. "You send a messenger to our doors to inform us of a meeting of the ABB clans. This is a meeting of leaders. You are no leader."

Cold eyes glinted as Shiba finished speaking and his hand rose to his mouth, the soft glow of his cigarette visible in the gloom.

Keito gulped, swallowing the mixture of saliva and shame that had been welling up as he listened to the older man, cultural norms warring with mortal fear in his mind. His palm lifted slightly from the wooden table, fingers tapping out an unsteady, shaky rhythm. "I...I didn't send out a messenger."

Shiba smirked, the cigarette in his lips rising to the edge of his mouth as he did so. "Ah, then, who did?"

There was a sound, like that of a balloon being stretched before a figure appeared in a sitting position on the meeting table, weapons out and ready. In the corner, the motionless statue in the corner hung in the air for a few moments before dissolving into particles of dust.

Oni Lee's sai hugged the tattooed neck of the Japanese _oyabun_ , while a katana stretched out to lift the chin of the second man, the one who first laughed. The head of the Koreans tried his hardest not to flinch even as Oni Lee's arm brushed up against his, fear of the suicidal assassin deeply ingrained in his mind.

" _I...did."_

Raspy from disuse as it was, Keito found himself flinching at the voice, the harsh, sinister tone even more frightening coming from the normally silent figure. He was glad to see that he was not the only one to do so.

Tension hung in the air for a moment, both men joining Keito in bouts of sweat and anxious, rapid breaths as the parahuman threatened their lives.

Then, Keito spoke. "Thank you, Lee."

As if a switch was flipped, all the attention in the small room centered on him again as the faction leaders realized that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't been foolish enough to call them here without a reason. Oni Lee's head was the last to turn, the movement of his neck slow and deliberate.

He tilted his head slightly, and despite the dim light, Keito caught it.

Lee was asking a question.

From the way the cape's hands seemed to tighten around his weapons, Keito felt like he had an understanding of what he was proposing.

"No."

Before the word left his mouth, the odd sound reappeared and the afterimage Oni Lee left behind dissolved into dust. Behind him, Keito heard the _snikt_ of a sharp weapon sliding back into it's container as the cape returned to his corner.

"You see, the Oni chose me to lead. He felt I was the best choice." Keito felt a smirk rise on his face as his former boss reddened. Despite how desperately he didn't want to be here, he couldn't resist having some fun at the expense of the man who forced him into the ABB.

Shiba shifted in his seat, shaky hands barely holding his cigarette steady. "And what would you have us do?"

Keito suppressed the urge to mock the man for his sudden bout of nervousness, realizing that now was not the time. Instead, he placed his palms flat on the table before staring back at the gathered men. Now was the time to discuss what he had planned.

The plan he had put together, well…

If anything, it made logical sense. To him, at least.

The ABB was outnumbered by the Merchants when it came down to how many capes they had to bear and the Empire outnumbered the both of them with their sheer number of capes and members in general.

The only reason they could keep up their attack on the city was the fact that Bakuda's bombs acted as a force multiplier as it kept the other capes off-balance and had the PRT running back and forth simply trying to deal with the aftermath.

It was pointless, though. _A giant waste of time._

Keito knew for a fact that they were fighting a losing battle without Lung but he doubted any of the leaders would outwardly admit such for fear of losing face due to lacking pride in the gang. He narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the table, the gathered men suddenly becoming wary of him.

He needed to get out. Three years of his life wasted in a gang that he hated. He needed an out that wouldn't end with him caught, beaten and dragged back for more punishment. He needed someone to let him go free.

 _God, I hope this works._

Keito stood up straight and clasped his hands together loudly, sending a ripple of movement through the men as they realized he was about to speak. Taking a deep breath, Keito said a silent prayer to whatever gods that existed that this plan would not blow up in his face.

"I understand that none of you want me to be here, in this position, leading you." Keito paused, rubbing his hairless jaw. "Trust me, I don't want this either but I was…," Keito fought the urge to stare over his shoulder, "chosen and I'm here now. I have to lead the ABB as best I can."

"There's only one way that I can think of to do that." Keito stood up and turned his back to the seated men. He let out a sigh before turning back around, a determined expression on his face to mask the fear he felt underneath. _If this doesn't work out, I'm fucked._

"Tomorrow, we free Lung."


	56. Complications 2-18A

Complications 2.18A

* * *

"Morning, sweetie."

Greg Veder raised his head from his breakfast to give his mother his best surly teenager look as she strolled into the room, hair bouncing in time with her steps. She stopped at the counter, picking up her premade mug of coffee from the coffee machine, flashing him a sunny smile in response. As usual, she wore a pair of blue scrubs.

"Good morning, mother."

"Again with this mother stuff?" huffed Susan Veder, one eyebrow raised. "I get it, you're not happy with me but it's been a week, Greg. There's no reason to stop calling me mom."

'Fine," Greg replied, sighing. "Good morning, _mommy_."

Despite having a mug of hot coffee at her lips, Susan managed to snort without either burning herself or spilling a drop. " _Mommy?"_

She snorted again.

"Mommy?You haven't called me that in years." Susan stepped away from the counter that she had been leaning against, coffee mug in hand, and walked over to the small kitchen table before carefully sitting down.

Greg did his best to roll his eyes and continued stirring his soggy corn flakes. "I guess?"

Susan gave a slight little hum, tapping her nails on the mug. "Okay, then. You sleep okay?"

"I slept fine," Greg said, shrugging. He kept his head low, eyes trained on the soggy, congealed mess that was his breakfast. Truth was, sleep had been kind of an issue with him over the past week. Images of his mother being attacked by Lung, Oni Lee, any random ABB member, really, filled his head almost every time he tried to go to sleep.

Susan let out a sigh as Greg shut down the conversation once again, answering in short sentences. "Come on, sweetie. This isn't like you. Don't you want to talk?" She asked, perky voice tinged with more than a hint of uncertainty.

"Hn." Greg's eyes flicked upwards as he let out a scoff.

Her lips came together in a pout. "I miss our talks, Greggie. Don't you love me anymore?"

Susan's coffee mug came down with the gentle _click_ of ceramic on wood, the image of a ten-year old blond boy giving an older blonde woman a kiss on the cheek slowly turning to face him. The phrase "Best Mom Eva" encircled the picture.

Greg flashed his mom the dryest stare he could. Something that best conveyed the message " _I know what you're doing and it's not working."_

"You grounded me." His response was not an answer to her question but he felt it was enough.

"And?" Susan scoffed, chin falling to rest on her raised palm. "You were out overnight. You didn't call me. Oh, and let me not forget that you broke our front door because and I quote, 'I lost the key.' You act like I didn't have all the reasons to punish you."

Greg opened his mouth to retort but Susan didn't give him a chance. "In fact, I don't see why you've been so moody. I didn't take away any of your toys or your computer. All I said was you can't leave the house."

Greg let out a breath, relieved that his mom would finally let him get a word in. "That's kinda the problem. I've been stuck at home for over a week."

"That's how being grounded works."

"You don't get it." Greg let out a groan. "I'm going stir-crazy in here, Mom."

"Sweetie, I can't take you seriously if you keep exaggerating."

Greg's apathetic expression dropped into a slight frown. He actually wasn't exaggerating that much.

Over the past week, he had developed a habit that he could only describe as _odd,_ mostly for how unexplained it was _._ Unable to venture past the property line without the express permission of his mother, Greg had taken to walking around the house, entering into each room and bathroom and simply walking around for a little bit before leaving again.

Even when Greg tried to stop himself, he would often realize that he had started his patrol without even being aware of when he started.

This happened several times a day _._ Every day.

For the past _eight_ days.

To make it even worse, the way his powers worked, he didn't seem to get tired unless he really did something to get his blood pumping. Just sitting at home for the last week had left him feeling like he wanted to explode.

With the ABB bombing everything, school had been cancelled so he didn't even have that as an excuse to leave the house. As cooped-up as he felt, he had seriously considered smashing down a wall or two simply to give himself more space.

Greg narrowed his eyes at his mom, well aware that she wouldn't understand how he felt.

"Besides," continued Susan, blue eyes narrowing in a mirror of Greg's own, "where would you go? Downtown? Where bombs are still going off? Huh?"

Greg's frown deepened into a scowl as he was reminded of another reason being stuck inside the house had been so torturous for him. The ABB's rampage hadn't simply ended with last week Thursday's riot.

No, the riot was apparently just a smokescreen for the gang to hide explosives all over the city, mainly concentrated on Downtown and Empire Eighty-Eight territory.

Hospitals were packed. Emergency services were constantly on alert, rushing to the newest explosion.

 _People were dying._

There was only one way for him to answer his mother's question. Lowering his head back down to the bowl of mush he once considered cereal, Greg muttered a single, quiet "Yes."

There was silence between the two, the only sounds being that of his mother slowly sipping her coffee and the annoying _clink-clink_ of a metal utensil hitting a ceramic bowl.

Tired of staring at something he couldn't bring himself to stomach, Greg pushed the bowl away and raised his head to glance at his mother, only to flinch at the heated glare she was sending him.

"Yes?" she said as her eyes finally caught his. "That's all you have to say?"

"Mom, what do you want from me? I'm a hero. I have to help people," Greg said with a sigh, spreading out his arms. "I can't do that stuck here."

Susan let out an exasperated breath, the heat in her glare fading just a bit. "You're not a hero, Greg."

She held up a hand before her son could get a word in, his mouth already open to retort. "Relax, sweetie. Just let me explain. You're just a kid…," Susan frowned, "who just _happens_ to have powers… who also has a job tha-"

"You mean like the Wards?" Greg bit back, interrupting her. "Kids with powers who have _jobs._ "

"Okay, _fine,_ " Susan replied, smiling at her son through gritted teeth. "You have a different job. You're a _corporate_ hero, sweetie," she paused, bringing a hand up to her nose.

Greg blinked. "Uhhh?"

"That means you don't have to fight, sweetie."

Greg blinked again, mouth falling open slightly. He quickly sat up, eyes narrowed. "But, Mom, I want to!"

"Greg, don't take this the wrong way but Max told me you're just a model with superpowers. Your job is to look pretty, smile for the camera and occasionally save a cat from a tree," Susan replied with a sigh. "That's all you have to do. That's all Max needs you to do. That's all I _want_ you to do."

"But...but, _mooooom,"_ Greg flinched as he found himself whining. "I'm… I'm a hero. I've fought villains. I fought _Lung."_

Susan scowled at her son's words, eliciting another flinch from Greg. "And look what happened to you because of that. I've seen trauma patients die from less."

"Mom, they didn't have powers!"

"And you think just because _you_ have them, you're untouchable?" Susan snapped. "You're fifteen, Greg! Do you really think that just because you have powers you're invincible."

"No." Greg replied with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Of course I don't, Mom. I mean, even still, I'm like... way tougher than most people and I can use that to help people, Mom. Isn't that why you became a nurse?"

Susan's expression softened and she reached across the table, gently placing a hand over her son's. "You don't need to put yourself in danger for no reason, Greg. You don't have to fight criminals."

"What's the point of being a hero if I don't do that?" Greg responded, frowning. "I didn't do this for money or to be fam-."

Greg paused as his mother shot him a look.

At his mom's disbelieving glance, Greg backtracked. "Okay, fine, I did want that stuff...a little bit. Still, they were pretty much side reasons, I guess. I wanted to be a hero who people look up to and… respect, you know? I don't wanna just be a regular person when I can do better stuff."

As he finished speaking, Susan patted his hand slightly and her disbelieving look changed, becoming sad. Almost wistful, really. "Hmm."

"What?"

"No, it's…" Susan waved a hand across her face, a sad smile visible. "It's nothing. Just… Your dad said the same thing to me when we were dating."

Greg scrunched up his face like he ate something sour. "Thanks a lot, Mom."

"No, this was before…" Susan shook her head slowly before continuing. "Before everything. Your dad was… He was different."

Frowning, Greg leaned back in his seat. "I'll take your word for it."

"Greg, sweetie… I get it." She scowled when Greg rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I get that you want to be a hero but you're not ready. You're… you're…"

Greg raised an eyebrow. "I'm what?"

His mother sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she shook her head. "You're _you._ You're energetic, you're playful you're 're my son and _still a kid_. I think you just rushed into this. Maybe _we_ rushed into this."

Greg frowned, folding his arms. "I'm not going to stop," he replied simply. "You can't ground me forever, Mom. I have powers now. I can help people."

"And if you get killed? This is Brockton Bay, Greg."

Greg frowned. "Mom, I am literally bulletproof! I am safer than I have ever been!"

"That may be bu-" Susan blinked rapidly as Greg's words caught up with her. "Bullet… bulletproof? You were shot?" Her pitch rose rapidly with every word, with the word "shot" coming out like a screech.

Greg blanched. "W-w-well...yeah. It didn't hurt, though. I mean..."

He tilted his head to one side, rubbing his chest absentmindedly. "It kinda stung but it didn't _hurt-_ hurt, you know? I mean, it was from those tiny guns, you know, the ones that you could fit in like your hand, like the lady guns… but… yeah… bulletproof? Pretty much."

Susan looked at her son for a long time, her eyes flicking back and forth between his chest and his face. The silence was becoming rather awkward as almost half a minute passed between them until Susan spoke.

"No."

The word came out softly, much quieter than Greg was used to.

"Hm?" Greg blinked. "No what?"

"No. I'm not doing this," his mother stated flatly. "I'm not going to let you convince me that this is normal. I'm not going to deal with this. You're not going out there to face people who would shoot you."

"Mom, I don't get why you're being like this," Greg said. He had to fight back a wince as he openly lied. Greg fully understood where his mom was coming from but he didn't intend on losing this argument simply because he was wrong.

"Look at the Wards. Vista, Clockblocker, Kid Win, Shadow Stalker, Gallant, Aegis and… uhhh… that new guy. I'm stronger, tougher _and_ faster than all of them. They're probably out there right now, patrolling and stuff."

"If I was their mother, they wouldn't be," Susan replied, arms over her chest.

"But Vista is literally thirteen and she's out there, doing cape stuff. These are kids like me. I could make friends, Mom."

"You have other friends."

"Mo- _Mooom_ , I have _a_ friend. As in singular."

Susan stared back at her son, arms still folded firmly over her chest. "Go hang out with him, then. In fact," Susan smirked triumphantly, "If you want to go out, you can go anywhere you want as long as Axel stays with you."

Greg froze for an instant. A moment later, a grin tugged at his lips and he had to fight to keep it from overwhelming his face.

"What are you doing?" Susan asked the question as Greg stood up, walking out of the kitchen.

Greg walked back in a moment later, holding a foldable chair. "Just getting another chair."

"I can see that. Why?"

Greg sighed as he placed the chair at the table, sitting back down immediately after. "Sparky sent me a text almost ten minutes ago saying he was coming over. He's almost here."

"Almost here?" Susan raised an eyebrow. "That's… convenient. I'm surprised his parents would drive over here with the situation being what it is."

Greg snorted. "His parents aren't dropping him off, Mom."

"Then… how's he getting over here? The buses aren't working right now."

Her son's lips tilted upwards in a smirk. "I dunno. He'd said he get here somehow."

Susan frowned. "How else is he going to get here? Run? Bike? It's a twenty minute drive from his house."

This time, the smirk on Greg's face was openly visible. "I dunno, Mom."

"I'm just saying that it doesn't make an-"

"Yo, Veders! What up?"

Susan found herself being cut off as the sound of her backdoor slamming shut interrupted her and a familiar voice interjected.

A moment later, Susan's eyebrows rose as a long-haired teen in a blue-and-white tracksuit walked into her kitchen, dropping right next to her son in the seat Greg placed by the table.

"What up, Miss V? G-Man?" The teen raised his fist and Greg met it with his own.

"Axel?" Her tone conveyed all the confusion she could muster. "How'd you get over here so-?"

"Fast?" The teen interrupted.

Susan frowned. "Yes."

The teen pulled down his bandana, lifted up the goggles he was wearing and winked, smirking as he did so "Well, I j-ow!"

"Hmm?" Susan made a confused face at the sudden pause.

Sparky suddenly sent a glare at his friend, the hispanic boy's eyes suddenly widening a moment later as if suddenly realized something. "Oh, y-you know, Miss V," he began again rather hesitantly, "a guy I know… dropped me off. _Hehasamotorcycle_ ," Sparky sped through the final sentence, making it seem like one word. "It's why I have the g-goggles, yeah." Out came the finger-guns.

"Huh, that's strange. I didn't hear a motorcycle."

"Ugh, well, yeah…" Sparky coughed, finger guns falling to his sides. "It's not a motorcycle, really. Just a motor scooter. It's electric, too. So, it doesn't make noise."

Susan raised an eyebrow at the odd explanation but couldn't think of anything else to say. "Alright, then."

Greg let out a relieved breath at which Susan stared at him in confusion.

Sparky took his chance to interject. "Back door wasn't locked, by the way. Fixed that for you. No need to thank me."

Susan turned back to Sparky, the teenager already having pulled out his phone. Her eyebrows rose as she watched the teen move around with an energy she knew was unlike him.

Susan glanced over at her son, eyes still wide, before turning back to his friend. "You seem… energetic today?"

Greg winced and at the same time, despite keeping the majority of his focus on his phone, Sparky tensed. "Oh… you know, just… just caffeine. Good stuff. Brazilian."

Susan turned back to Greg, eyes questioning. Greg simply shrugged.

Deciding to let the matter rest, his mother smiled as she stood up, walking over to place her mug in the sink. "It's good to see you, Axel."

"Same here, Miss Veder." Sparky replied, not even looking up from whatever he was doing. "I've said it before, though. Y-you can call me Sparky."

Susan pursed her lips and hummed for about a second before replying, "And I've told you before, It's nice to know that, Axel."

"Toosh."

"Touché," Greg corrected his friend without even glancing up. He heard a muttered "whatever" and he could tell Sparky was rolling his eyes at him. "So, Mom, remember what we were talking about before?"

"Not this again," Susan replied, shaking her head. "I just want you to stay at home. What's so hard about that? I'm literally giving you an order to be lazy. Do you know how many kids would love a mom like that?"

"I get it. I get it. You're being a very awesome mom, Mom. I'll have to call the Awesome Mom Awards Committee to officially give you an Awesome Mom award for being such an awesome mom, Mom," Greg said, piling on the sarcasm.

"Enough with the mom's," Susan replied, barely holding back a snort herself. "God, Greg, I just want to know what's so hard about finding ways to occupy yourself. Look, Axel's here. The two of you can do whatever it is teenage boys do when they're home alone."

Wincing at his mother's words, Greg physically recoiled and Sparky snickered at his friend's face.

"God, Mom. _Gross._ _Why?"_

" _Boys."_ All Susan could do was roll her eyes at her son's antics. "I was actually talking about video games, cartoons and snacks but okay, why not go right to the gutter? Thank you for putting that image in your poor mother's head. Now, if you'll excuse me, sweetie, I have to go. Can't exactly stay home with the hospital like it is."

Susan stood up, purse in hand. "I'll see you at 6, Greg."

Greg let out a sigh, doing his very best to ignore Sparky's snickering. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" As his mother turned to face him, Greg decided to try a different route, one he had avoided going down before, simply due to how _embarrassing_ it was.

Cocking his head up at his mom, Greg stuck out his bottom lip, trying hard to emulate the faces he made as a young kid when trying to get something from his mother. "Can Sparky and I go outside later? Please?"

He was met with a flat stare. "Are you kidding me?"

Greg clicked his tongue. "Really? I thought that might work. A little, at least.."

"Well, if I hadn't raised you for the past fifteen years and you were better at doing," she raised her hand and pointed it at Greg, making a lazy circle with one manicured finger, " _that,_ it might have worked. Emphasis on the _might_ ," Susan said with a tilt of her head. "It'd also help if you were a girl, too."

Greg let out a sigh and lowered his eyelids. Oddly enough, the pout remained, although now it wasn't forced. It almost dropped into a scowl as he heard the less-than-subtle snort coming from Sparky.

Internally, Susan relaxed. While she was well aware of what her son was doing, that look from him still had more of an effect on her than she liked to admit. Something about those wide blue eyes, a perfect copy of her own, had much more of an effect when on her son's cherubic face.

"Mom. I promise I'm not gonna go out looking for bad guys to punch. I just want to stretch my legs a little."

Susan narrowed her eyes. "And where are you going to stretch your legs?"

"Uhhh… the park? Just around the area, you know."

"The park?" Susan questioned disbelievingly. "You're usually not a big fan of the park."

"Yeah, Sparky wanted me to show off what I can do. Run around, jumping, and we kinda need some space for that," Greg replied, trying hard to keep eye contact.

"Around the area, huh?" His mother wrapped her arms together. "You're sure you're not going take Sparky somewhere dangerous?"

"No, Mom. There's no way I'd take Sparky to something he couldn't handle. Sparky wouldn't wanna do that anyway," Greg replied, voice somewhat uncertain. "Isn't that right, Sparks?"

Susan turned to her son's friend for confirmation, the teenager's attention still wrapped up in his phone.

"Sparky!" Greg hissed, nudging his friend with an elbow.

The boy in blue let out a hiss of pain and dropped his phone on the table. One hand went to his arm, rubbing it as he glared at Greg. "What?", he hissed back.

Greg fixed him with a stare of his own. "I said, you wouldn't wanna go somewhere too dangerous for _you_ ,right?"

Sparky let out a scoff before turning to face Greg's mother, giving her a wide grin. "Yeah, nah. Don't worry, Miss V. Everything he said, hundred percent."

Susan sighed, unfurling her arms. "Okay, then. I guess a week is long enough for a grounding."

Greg's eyes widened. "You mean…"

"Yes, I'm letting you leave the ho-" Susan found herself interrupted once again as her son jumped up from the table and threw his arms around her in a hug that was just a little too tight for her liking. Despite that, she didn't pull back.

"Thanks, Mom!"

"Mmm, no problem. As long as you don't go anywhere dangerous."

"No worries!" Greg's reply came a little quick but Susan didn't notice.

"Goodbye, sweetie." As she said this. Susan bent over and placed a kiss on her son's forehead.

" _Mom!"_ Greg let out a groan as his mom pulled away and he began furiously rubbing at the spot. "Lipstick? Really?"

Susan's lips tilted upwards and she turned around to leave, grabbing her purse from the table. "See you at 6. Stay safe," Susan told her son, a hint of pleading working it's way into her tone.

"I will." "No prob," Greg and Sparky answered at the same time.

Susan stared at the two for a moment before shaking her head and walking out of the kitchen.

The two teens sat at the breakfast table in silence, listening as Greg's mother walked out the front door. Less than a minute later, the sound of her Chrysler sedan pulling out of the driveway faded out and Sparky turned to Greg, a smirk already on his lips.

"Wanna see something cool?"

Greg answered with a grin.


	57. Complications 2-18B

Complications 2.18B

* * *

"Again! Do it again!" Greg's shout rang out throughout the empty park area, so loud he wouldn't be out of place at a sports event. His arms were up over his head, one hand pumping the air, a bright smile on his face to match his voice.

A few meters away from Greg was where Sparky stood, aviator goggles on and bandana covering the lower part of his face. "Again? Y-you sure?" While his mouth wasn't visible, the smirk was audible in his tone.

"Yeah, man! Again!"

"You got it, brah!" Sparky nodded, his head bobbing back and forth like a rockstar at a concert. Greg watched as his friend held his hands out at his sides, palms facing the sky. Sparky's right hand flicked to the side, and Greg spotted a thin object half as long as his arm flying up into the air over his friend's head.

 _His magic wand._ At least that's what Sparky had called it during their run over here. Apparently, Sparky needed a focus, something to conduct his electricity through to actually hit something that wasn't touching him. Greg couldn't imagine what it would be like to have to use a… a crutch?

 _Crutch… Yeah, that sounds about right._

To have to use as a crutch justto use his own abilities felt plain _wrong_ to him. Then again, he didn't need it so he couldn't really judge.

Greg's eyes snapped back to his friend as Sparky did a little dance, feet little more than blurs. Above him, the pipe tumbled through the air. Sparky paid it no mind, too busy showing off in a way that Greg was sure would break a normal person's legs.

Without even looking, the long-haired teen snatched the thin cylinder out of the air with his left hand and hurled it back up into the air again. This faux-juggling attempt continued for a few more seconds before Sparky snatched the metal object out of the air again and thrust his hand directly into the air, the aluminium pipe glinting as he held it up.

Greg's eyes widened as his friend tilted to the side, turning to face a thick tree almost forty feet away. _Oh, this is gonna be so cool!_

Arcs of electrical energy burst from Sparky's upraised hand, coiling upwards to dance around the thin pipe he held in his fingers. For a moment, he kept his hand in that position, a look of concentration visible in his eyes as he channeled raw electricity through his fingers.

Quicker than Greg's eyes could follow, Sparky's arm blurred down, leaving behind a trail of blue behind it. Like before, there was a flash of bright white light and a blast of thunder.

"Dammit!"Greg swore as he found himself blinking away the spots in his eyes once more. It was punishment for staring directly at Sparky's hands while he pulled off that trick and once again Greg was surprised at how much of an effect the move had on him. _Like a camera going off right in my face...god._

Luckily for him, his hearing wasn't as impacted as his vision and he heard Sparky jogging over to his side. A moment later, he felt a hand patting his back. "You good, brah?"

"Give me a minute." The blond raised a hand to his eyes, fiercely rubbing them for a few seconds before blinking a few more times.

"Yeah, I'm good but I alm- Holy crap!"

As his vision returned, Greg couldn't stop himself from letting out a yell of excitement as he spotted the tree Sparky used as a target. While the tree was more or less intact and obviously still standing, most of the bark on the front had been torn off in jagged strips, the area around them alight like embers.

Sparky dashed forward to the damaged tree, traversing several meters in the time it took Greg to blink. He paused, tilting his head to the side as he fully took in his own handiwork.

After a few seconds of silent staring, he let out a low whistle. "Nice shit, eh, G?"

Greg nodded absently. "Yeah."

"Better than blowing up branches, huh?"

Greg's eyes trailed over the burning wood, smoke still trailing from the embers.

"...yeah." Greg broke out into a grin. An instant later, his right hand lit up with a golden halo, a mass of energy clutched in his fist. Greg raised it up to his face, the glow reflecting in his eyes.

"Wanna see mine?"

* * *

Greg and Sparky lay on the hillside, the two teens deciding to relax after Greg won their little contest, to no one's surprise.

After thirty minutes of blowing things up, the two simply lay there, staring up at the clouds as Sparky regaled his friend with stories of his past week.

"I was all like, 'What up, Generic Thug #33? Let the lady g-g-go or I'll have to mess you up and you don't want that. Hospitals are super expensive, m-man.' Then, dude pulled out a knife and was like, 'Step off, freak. Imma stab you. Grrrr.'

"Then I was l-like, 'Oh mah gawd, a pocket knife. What am I gonna do?'

Then the guy was like, ' _stab-stab, stab-stab, stab-stab-stab_ '. D-dodged that shit. Punched the guy so hard he went down, threw up all over the floor. I snatched his knife too. Boom!" Sparky pulled out a dinky pocket knife from the jacket pocket of his tracksuit and pointed it upwards.

"L-lady was like _"Oh my God!"_ and ran away. Went through the guy's p-pockets. Didn't find shit. So, I was like deuces! Called the cops and got out of there."

Greg snorted. "Dueces?"

"Dueces," Sparky repeated, two of them nodded at each other solemnly before finally letting out the laughter they had both been holding back.

"Okay, great story. Minor nitpick." Greg said as he finally stopped laughing. "We both know you didn't say all that."

Sparky smirked. "Sixty percent..."

"I'll believe it," Greg said with a shrug. "Also, _Generic Thug #33_?"

"It's been a b-busy week." Sparky returned the knife to his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"I can see that." Greg fought off a frown as he spotted the new touchscreen his friend had been so invested in for the past hour. Sparky had lost his old phone during last week's bombings but Greg wasn't exactly a fan of how he had chosen to replace it , a result of his friend's new hobby. Criminals they might have been, but stealing wasn't exactly good, no matter who you did it to.

Sighing, he shook his head. _Not like I can say anything. If he feels okay doing it, it's not like they don't deserve it anyway._

"So, b-brah," continued Sparky, "what's with your week?"

Greg rolled his eyes at the question. "Boring. Boring. Boring. It was like the worst thing ever."

His friend shot him a disbelieving look, crossing his arms. "Brah, how c-can you say that? No school for like the last eight days. How could it be terrible?"

"Mom grounded me, remember?"

"So?"

Greg sighed. "You wouldn't get it."

The disbelieving look on Sparky's face faded, leaving behind a pensive expression. "Being inside too long makes you f-feel weird, huh?"

Greg whipped his head around so fast a normal person might have gotten whiplash. "How?"

"Do I know?" Sparky let out a sigh. "Same w-with me, brah. I get all crazy sitting at home. It's mad weird."

"So weird," Greg echoed, sitting up fully.

"C-can't even sleep, dude. It's crazy," Sparky's eyes darkened. "Like last night, I had to run all the w-way to the Trainyard and back like five times just to get t-tired. Like, literally, brah, I t-tried. I just fucking can't."

"...uh-huh." Greg nodded slowly, giving his friend a pitying look. _That's worse than me._

"F-forget it. You know what I m-mean, man," Sparky replied, shaking his head. "What's up with that Everett guy, by the way? You said you'd introduce m-me."

Greg winced. "I… huh."

Sparky cocked an eyebrow. "What, dude?"

That was a tough question for Greg to answer, for more reasons than he could voice.

For reasons that he was unsure of, Evron had been… intermittent over the last week.

While the mysterious albino cape had never actually stayed at his house, Greg had gotten used to seeing him for at least a few hours a day over the past month. To have his mentor - could he even call Evron a mentor? - suddenly drop out of his life without warning was…

Well, it was disconcerting, to say the least.

He knew the cape showed up in his house now and again. He didn't know exactly when but he could tell. Maybe the room smelled different or even looked different, still somewhat suffused by the white glow that seemed to hang around Evron, he really didn't know. Some nights, he could swore he felt him around… somewhere.

All in all, he had seen Ev a grand total of twice the past week and with both of those times put together, he hadn't been present for up to thirty seconds before vanishing away when Greg closed his eyes or turned around.

"Eh, brah? You there?"

Greg snapped back to reality, turning to face his friend. "Huh?"

"You blanked, brah." Sparky shot him a look. "That's supposed t-to be my thing. You okay?"

Greg responded with a weak smile, glancing up the clouds for a moment before turning back to face his friend. "Sorry. It's just… I was thinking about Evron. He hasn't been showing up to show me stuff. The last time we spoke was like… Tuesday, I guess."

"Something went down?"

The question made him pause and Greg took a moment before he responded, face screwed up in thought. "Not… not really? I was watching TV and had this weird feeling so I turned around and he was just sitting there on the edge of the couch, right next to me."

Sparky frowned, raising a hand to brush hair out of his eyes. "Uhh… talk about weird."

Greg leaned forward, rolling his eyes. "I know, right? Took all I had not to freak out. Anyway, I was like 'Hey, Ev? Where've you been?' He just gave me that stupid smirk and was like 'Just out, doing my part, planting seeds for the future.'"

Sparky narrowed his eyes, raising his hands up to his head. "Brah, what? P-pull back a little. Just… what?"

"I know, right? I was all 'What?' and he just smiled at me again and patted me on the shoulder. I blinked and he was gone."

"Gone? Like just 'poof'?" Sparky emphasized his last word with a movement that Greg swore looked exactly like jazz hands.

"Poof," Greg repeated Sparky's choice of words. "I just blinked and he was gone. It took me forever to be sure I wasn't hallucinating or something. He popped back up like the next day, dropped some money on my bed and vanished when I blinked."

"Wha…"

Greg let out a sigh. "It happened so fast I didn't even get to say anything."

Sparky raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said the dude was cool, not creepy as fuck."

"Yeah," Greg sighed again. "… he's eccentric."

"You mean, creepy as infinite fucks," Sparky added, making a face.

Greg shrugged. "Eccentric. It kinda comes when you have powers, I guess."

* * *

"...kinda comes when you have powers, I guess."

Sparky stared at his friend for a moment as Greg finished speaking, the sentence unintentionally sending his mind back to a topic he had been avoiding thinking about. It was almost impossible for him not to think about it now, though, his unusually sharp eyes already hunting for things that he would never have even noticed eight days ago.

Of course, there were things that he noticed even before he had gotten powers of his own.

Greg's skin suddenly clearing up, muscles coming out of nowhere, his hair becoming far thicker and more… colorful?

All that was obvious to the point that a child would have picked them out, but, as lazy as he usually was, Sparky hadn't even given it much thought.

The other things, though, the small things, the things you wouldn't notice unless you tried really hard to convince yourself you were wrong… they were impossible not to notice once you realized you were lying to yourself.

The way Greg looked was one. He looked...

He looked...

Sparky closed his eyes, letting out a low breath as he did so.

Fuck it, Greg looked _pretty_. His skin far too soft and flawless for a boy his age, with a glow inside it that left him looking like a model _after_ Photoshop.

Another was the way he moved, the way his body seemed to do exactly what he wanted to. He didn't trip, he didn't stumble, he just walked like he didn't notice the obstacles beneath his feet; the ones a normal person would try to avoid in a wooded area like this. Like he didn't notice the branches at his feet being crushed into innumerable splinters or the indentations his body left in the tree bark as he unconsciously leaned up against them.

His movements were too fluid, his limbs far too coordinated for his lanky frame. His skeleton seemingly behaving more like a general guideline rather than an immutable part of his body, as Sparky found himself wincing when Greg stretched _just_ a bit too far, moved a little bit too smoothly or made an unconscious movement with his body that frankly didn't _look right_ , almost as if the joints weren't quite attached.

Even Greg doing something so simple as shrugging was uncomfortable as hell to watch just for the sole reason that _shoulders shouldn't move that way_.

Sparky didn't have the words to describe it. He didn't think anyone did. The words didn't exist because it wasn't just one thing, it was _everything_.

To top it all off, Greg looked the same.

 _Almost._

He looked almost exactly the way he used to and that made everything so much _worse._ Looking at him, it was easy for him to see that this was Greg but he was also… not.

Sparky shook his head, trying to rid himself of his runaway thoughts. He turned away from his friend as they sat together in silence, doing his best to ignore the trickle of guilt that he felt from thinking about his friend that way.

He didn't even feel like he could judge. He was different too.

The stutter, the way he didn't seem to get tired, the way his body seemed to move before his mind could catch up… Sparky was sure there was more but he couldn't bring himself to think about it right now. Honestly, the only reason his parents hadn't even asked him about it yet was because the two of them were off doing their own thing as usual, barely even acknowledging him during one of their… moments.

Although, maybe there was more than that. How different was he now?

Sparky let out another soft sigh and turned back to face Greg, the blond still looking up at the clouds with a soft smile on his face. Could Greg possibly have the same sort of thoughts about him, noticed the same type of changes?

Sparky found himself twitching again as he went over the possibilities.

This was bound to be uncomfortable but… he had to know.

"Hey, G-"

 _'bip-bip-bip-bip-bip-bip'_

The sound was familiar to Greg, the beeping of his Tinker phone. At least eight times a day, it had been going off this past week to inform him of fires, looters, and of course, bombing incidents. Despite his inability to respond, it served it's purpose well, alerting him at all times of day with that same annoying…

 _'bip-bip-bip-bip-bip-bip'_

"You gonna get that?"

Greg looked up to see Sparky staring him down with one hand propping up his chin. He sighed in response, hand already reaching toward his jacket pocket . _Yeah. Might as well._

Pulling out the white-and-black phone he had gotten accustomed to, Greg's eyes widened and his jaw slackened as he stared at the screen.

* * *

 **PRT HQ Requesting Backup.**

* * *

 **Multiple Explosions reported.**

 **ABB Launching Assault on HQ.**

 **Requesting Immediate Assistance.**

* * *

Sparky shot him a questioning glance and Greg turned the phone around to let his friend see for himself.

"...shit." Sparky said enough for both of them. "What are we g-gonna do?"

Greg shook his head. "I don't know. Can we do anything?"

"What's that supposed t-to mean?" Sparky shot back, a bemused expression on his face.

"You know…" Raising his hands up in a placating gesture, Greg shrugged, only for Sparky to wince as he did so. Blinking at the odd response, Greg continued. "I promised my mom we wouldn't go anywhere dangerous."

Sparky shook his head slowly. "'S'not what I heard."

"Huh?"

"You told your mom," Sparky paused to point at Greg, "that _you_ wouldn't take _me_ anywhere that was too dangerous for me."

Greg scrunched his face up in though. "I did? I guess… Hold up," a look of realization crossed his face. "You were listening?"

Rolling his eyes with a sigh, Sparky responded with an eloquent "Duh. Come on, let's go-go-go!" As he said this, Sparky jumped to his feet, already jogging in place.

"I… I don't know, man,"Greg replied, rubbing the back of his head thoughtfully. "I promisedwe wouldn't go anywhere you couldn't handle."

'Come on, man," Sparky groaned as he grabbed hold of Greg's arm and pulled in some misguided attempt to lift him to his feet. "I'm a cape. What k-kind of cape would I be if I couldn't handle a couple g-gang members?"

Greg narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to argue only for Sparky to interject before he could say anything. "Brah, I'm literally living lightning. I'm more d-d-da… d-da-d-f-fuck!" Sparky spat with a growl.

Taking a deep breath, Sparky shut his eyelids tightly and opened them a moment later with a tight grin on his face. "I'm _scarier_ than any d-dude with a gun."

Greg frowned slightly, a disconcerted expression on his face. After a few moments hesitation, he let out a soft, muttered, "...I guess."

Sparky's tight grin loosened, spreading out across his face. "I'm sorry, brah, didn't g-get that. One more time, please."

Greg let out a low breath, closing his eyes. "Don't push it."

"So…"

Opening his eyes, he stared up into his friend's smirking face, his hands clenched tightly.

"I'm probably gonna get _so_ grounded for this," Greg finally said, his voice little more than a muttering groan. _Mom won't ground me for this, right? Technically, I'm not putting Sparky in danger and I'm in even less danger with him watching my back, right? Right?_

" _So…_ "

Greg rose to his feet, taking the time to dust himself of grass and dirt. He flashed Sparky a scowl before letting out another sigh, already resigned as he spotted the expectant look on his friend's face.

"Fine."

" _Woooohooooo!"_

Greg started at Sparky's sudden shout, nearly jumping back in surprise. A gust of wind kicked up around him, forcing him to close his eyes for a moment but not before he spotted a blur encircle him.

Opening his eyes, Greg took a moment to blink away the dust that had been kicked up into the air before shouting,"Wait! Wait! Wait!"

Sparky skidded to a stop, leaving a small furrow in the grass behind him. He snapped his head back to face Greg, eyebrows raised. "What, brah? I thought w-we were doing this."

Greg shook his head. "Before we get out there, I need to make somethings clear. 'kay?"

Sparky smirked. "Shoot."

"Okay." Greg gave a slow nod in response. "First things first, what's your cape name?"

"Uhhh." Sparky tensed, blanking out as he tried to think of a response. "I… Uhh...Surge Protector?"

Greg blinked. "Surge Protector?"

Sparky's mouth opened, moving up and down for a few seconds with no sound coming out before he closed it. "I-I… I guess?", he replied, shrugging. "I mean, it has t-to do with electricity."

"Umm…" Greg blinked again, trying to come to terms with the… unique name. "So, you protect surges?"

Sparky shrugged. "You say that like that lady cape down in Boston actually p-protects mouses."

"Mice," replied Greg instinctively.

"W-whatever."

"Honestly, Surge Protector…", Greg took a breath, taking a moment to choose his words. "It's… unique, I guess. You know, for a name you just pulled out of your butt."

"No d-doubt," Sparky didn't seem to register the slight dig, instead agreeing wholeheartedly with Greg. "I had other ones but they were taken."

"Of course they were." Greg replied, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, second, uhhh... it's kinda simple. Just make sure you don't get hit. The ABB have Tinker bombs and they..." Greg paused as a shiver went down his spine and he could swear he felt his right hand tingle ever so slightly. "Let's just say they do a lot of damage."

"No duh," Sparky shot back, barely holding back a snort. "You think I'm just gonna l-let them h-hit me? Really, brah? Really? What else you g-got? Keep moving? Keep my costume on?"

Greg winced at his friend's comeback, the words bearing more than a little similarity to what he was going to add next. "I get it. I get it."

Snapping his fingers at Greg, Sparky smirked. "No problem. Just keep hitting me with that t-top notch advice. Real good stuff, brah."

Shaking his head at his friend's antics, Greg turned towards the Brockton Bay skyline. "Let's just do this."

The Hispanic teen dashed a few feet in front of Greg and turned to face him, shooting his best friend a grin that was far too eager. "F-fucking finally!" His hand rose to his face and in a blur of movement, he adjusted his bandana over his mouth and pulled down his aviator goggles as well as his hood.

" _Wooooooooohooooooooooo!"_ Before Greg could say anything else, he was hit in the face by a blast of wind and a flurry of dirt as Sparky took off in a blur of motion.

"Holy…" Greg gasped out, eyes stinging. "...fast."

He blinked again, this time from surprise instead of pain. In less than a few seconds, Sparky had traveled several blocks distance. "Wait! Wait up!" Greg called out, already running himself.

After a few seconds, he realized it was pointless. While he was by no means slow, Sparky's power seemed geared for speed in a way that Greg knew he couldn't match. That insane acceleration was proof enough.

 _Does he even know how to get to the PRT HQ?_ , Greg thought bitterly. _Probably not._

Shoving away the slight annoyance he felt, Greg focused on getting there, doing his best to maintain a steady speed that wouldn't utterly wreck his new shoes. Within minutes, he was nearing Downtown Brockton and he was forced to change his method of transportation from running to something a bit more vertical due to some rubble and the few cars brave enough to be driving on the road.

Greg kicked off the asphalt, traveling several meters up in a single bound. Landing on a roof in one smooth motion, he pumped one fist in the air. "Awesome!"

A small smile spread across his face and he couldn't help but give himself a mental pat on the back. _Eat your heart out, Shadow Stalker. Bet you can't do that._

He began running across the rooftops, making deliberately weak jumps in order to avoid overshooting his mark like he often did. Videos of Shadow Stalker's patrols still in mind, he did his best to mimic her movements, leaping over roof after roof without pushing too hard off the ground.

Greg found himself nearing another edge and prepared to jump again when a sudden scream interrupted his concentration. _What the-_

Too late to stop himself, Greg found himself in the air, having put far too much strength into his jump. _Nonononono..._

Luckily for him, Greg landed just shy of the edge of a building instead of falling embarrassingly to the ground below. He had touched down in a shaky crouch, his knee driving a small hole into the roof. _Close one._

Rushing to his feet, Greg looked over the edge of a roof to try and find out where the scream had come from. He spotted it immediately.

Several cars lay abandoned on the one way street below, the path blocked by a massive crater filled with a large spire of what looked like crystal or colored glass.

An older woman was pressed up against one of the abandoned cars on the street while a young man with bright red hair stood in front of her, holding a thick pipe in front of him like a weapon.

Surrounding the two were three ABB members, easily identified by their red and green bandanas and the fact that they were armed to the teeth.

Fury filled Greg's thoughts and he jumped off the roof, falling several stories to the ground below. He landed with both feet in a thundering crash, the asphalt cratering slightly as he slammed into it with bone-breaking force.

The ABB turned around, eyes already wide and mouths open. Greg dashed forward before they could react, reaching out and punching one in the stomach. As the man fell back onto the pavement, a small rectangular object flew from his hands, clattering under the car.

A switchblade? Hammer? Gun? Greg didn't bother to check, completely focused on the next one. He punched him in the jaw, swinging with little force so as not to hit too hard. Despite that, the tattooed thug crumpled to the ground.

The last one goggled for a moment before turning to run toward the woman still huddled up against the car, a look of fear visible on her face as the gang member brandished his knife.

Before Greg could respond, the redhead jumped in, interposing himself between the woman and the thug. With a wordless scream, he swung the pipe in his hands like a baseball bat.

The gangster leaned back, dodging the young man's clumsy swing and lunged at the two, knife in hand.

Before he could touch them, Greg leapt forward. Deflecting the knife with an outstretched arm, he grabbed the thug by the back of the head, his fingers like a vise against his bald scalp. The man screamed out, spitting and cursing in broken English as he bucked and fought against Greg's hold.

"Stop fighting and I'll let you go! I don't want to hurt you!" Greg said with a growl, ironically sounding exactly like he wanted to hurt him.

Still struggling against Greg's grip, the man chose not to listen, his insults now referencing Greg's mother.

"Shut. UP!"

With an angry snarl, Greg introduced the man's face to the hood of the car. The gangster was quickly silenced, the sharp crack of his nose against metal the last thing Greg heard from him. "I told you to shut up," he hissed at the limp figure in his hand.

Breathing heavily despite not feeling the least bit tired, he let go of the thug's skull, letting his head slam once more onto the hood before his body dropped to the floor in a unresponsive heap.

"H-hey…"

Greg slowly turned around, still breathing heavily to face the voice only to see the redhead standing behind him. The woman was behind him, leaning against the back door of the totaled sedan.

Despite dripping with sweat and his clothes, the guy was doing his best to appear unhurt. "Hey, thanks for...umm," the redhead began again, pausing to lick his lips. "Thanks for saving my... m… us. Thanks for saving us. They kinda just," the guy gestured to the ruined street in front of them, "...yeah."

Greg's mind began to slip from the auto-pilot of fighting as he slowly realized the redhead was waiting for him to respond, staring at him with expectant, yet exhausted, eyes. "No problem. What kinda hero would I be if I let you guys get hurt, right?"

The redhead visibly flinched, the action surprising Greg slightly. "That's true, I guess," he replied in a strained tone.

 _Was it something I said?_

Trying to salvage the moment, Greg stretched out a hand. "You pretty much looked like you had everything under control, anyway. I just wanted to help out."

The teenager took Greg's hand, shaking it as he gave Greg a weak smile. "Thanks again."

Greg beamed at him, flashing bright white teeth. "No problem."

With that said, Greg took off, leaping several meters into the air and alighting on a nearby rooftop. Turning back to face the two civilians on the street below, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Sorry about this but I gotta go! It's an emergency!"

Greg turned around, training his eyes on the skyscraper jutting out from the skyline several miles away. "Gotta get there faster."

As if the words were some sort of mantra, a pale golden glow surrounded Greg's body and he began to run across the roof in a flat-out sprint. The moment he reached the edge, the glow rose in intensity and Greg _pushed_ off the rooftop, cratering the ground beneath his feet as he took off like a rocket.

* * *

The redhead glanced up at the brightly glowing figure shooting up into the sky, a slight frown forming on his face. Shaking his head, he leaned back up against the car and let out a rattling sigh as he tried to catch a breath.

Everything had just... happened so fast. The car crash, the bombs, the ABB…

It might as well have been within the same instant.

He wasn't even sure he could say what happened first. All he knew was that he had to keep his mom safe. Even if he couldn't do it by himself, he had to at least try.

Then, _**he**_ showed up, dropping out of nowhere. The way he handled those guys… grown men… the guy didn't even have to try. It just wasn't fair.

"THE FUCK?"

The teen jumped back away from the car, jarred from his thoughts by a sudden scream of rage. His eyes snapped to the source of the sound a few feet away, immediately spotting another ABB. Dyed green hair, tattoos all over, bandolier, ripped jeans… there was no doubt who he was with.

The gangster's eyes left the ground, where he had noticed his fellow thugs, and snapped to the redhead's, noticing his bruised body. In an instant, the thug quickly came to the wrong conclusion.

"You! YOU FUCKIN' DID THIS?"

Screaming at the top of his lungs, the gangster charged at the young man, expression promising retribution.

The redhead whipped around to face his mother's prone form, eyes half-lidded as she lay on the backseat of their car. "Mom, run!"

"What?" Her eyes snapped open and she sat up groggily, her speech slurred. "Dennis? What-"

"RUN!" The shout came a moment too late as a swing rocketed towards him. Despite moving back, Dennis was unable to avoid the strike completely, his jaw taking the brunt of the hit. He let out a grunt of pain as his head snapped back

Adrenaline spiked in his bloodstream and he leapt, acting on instinct and muscle memory.

His elbow impacted the gangster's sternum, forcing a silent gasp from the man before the criminal suddenly _froze_ , hanging in place like a living statue. With his free hand, the teen grabbed his mother's and started to run, dragging her from the car as she gibbered in fear.

Dennis didn't know how long they had until he started moving again but he couldn't risk it. His body hurt and he could feel himself slowing down, his vision hazy and body burning from the car crash just minutes before. His mother could barely keep up at first but as they kept moving, Dennis found that he was the one slowing her down.

It wasn't long before Dennis couldn't go any further.

All his energy spent, the young man fell to the street on his hands and knees, chest heaving. Gravel and shattered pavement stabbed at his legs as he tried desperately to catch his breath. Vision already spiraling, he tried to push himself to his feet only to fail and slam to the ground as he gasped for air.

Dennis heard his mother's voice and felt her trying to lift him up, hands around his shoulders.

The sound of dulled screams hit his ears and he forced himself to look. A flash of fear struck him as he saw the ABB, less than block behind, already moving.

An odd, almost distorted, beeping sound caught his attention and he looked up even further, his eyes spotting a silvery object flying through the air towards him and his mother.

Dennis heard another beep, this time a long tone that seemed to stretch out. His eyes widened and with the last of his strength, he pushed his mother away, sending her flying back.

Something erupts from the object hurtling towards him, a blast of green light that seems to distort the air around it and he feelsit as it hits him.

His mouth opens to scream.


	58. Complications 2-19A

Complications 2.19A

* * *

Sparky liked running.

He _really_ liked it.

Things seemed to fade away when he moved, everything but the path in front of him going black as he put one foot after another. Past a certain point, things seemed to affect him less. The wind stopped being a nuisance, the breeze moving around him rather than buffeting him as he ran. The same could be said for himself, as well. As his body blurred over the ground, he didn't have to think about how he moved or where he was going.

He just ran.

Entire blocks appeared and vanished in seconds, his legs instinctively moving to avoid the shattered carcasses of cars and the rubble that littered the streets. He felt so unrestrained as he moved, his mind blank of all but the most essential thoughts. Legs pistoned beneath him almost a dozen times a second, propelling him faster and faster.

His body literally surged with energy, arcs of electricity racing through his veins with every single stride. At a whim, he prodded at the energy, mentally grabbing hold of some of the energy inside him, little portions of what he could only think to call "sparks." With the tiniest bit of mental effort, he pushed them into himself and _accelerated._

The world around him faded to black in an instant, only a tiny path in front of him clear as he pumped his legs. Wind tore at his clothes, pulling back his hood and whipping at his hair. He felt like shouting at the top of his lungs again.

This was freedom.

This was Nirvana.

This wa-

Sparky's thoughts crashed to a speeding halt as something red flashed across the small window that was his field of vision.

He opened his mouth to scream.

Even as fast as he was, he didn't get the chance.

The world erupted with light and heat and force as Sparky felt himself flying through the air. Everything suddenly sped up, coming back into focus before…

 **PAIN.**

Another impact. This time from behind.

Sparky let out a wordless scream as he felt something _crack_ , shattering upon contact with what felt like a solid steel wall.

He barely registered hitting the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head before his body even touched down.

* * *

A choked breath burst from his lips as he opened his eyes. _Where… what…_

Something… something smelled terrible.

Sparky coughed, wheezing desperately for air as he tried to blink away the black spots in his vision. _What the…_

Lying on his back, he clawed the ground around him, his fingers coming into contact with a soft and squishy surface. His damp palms sunk into the surface like clay but he continued to push upwards, ignoring the odd feel of the crumbling material beneath him.

As he drug himself up to a sitting position, a hand went to his chest as a burst of pain caught his attention. The moment his fingers grazed his chest, Sparky winced and let out a low groan as he tried to catch his breath. "...f-f-fuck."

 _Something's broken. Yeah, def broken._ Sparky coughed again, the taste of pennies soon filling his mouth.

He grimaced. _Blood._

His coughing fit continued, nearly turning into retching before Sparky hacked up a wad of spit and blood, spitting it out almost immediately. _God, that hurt._ He blinked in surprise. _Wait, why the fuck does that hurt so much?_

Amber eyes went blue as something in the back of his mind caught Sparky's attention. A few moments later, his eyes shifted back to amber and Sparky nearly sat up in surprise, gasping as he realized something. Almost half of the charge he had last time he checked was just… gone.

Sparky let out a groan, one of exasperation, as he realized what had happened to his stockpile of energy. Experimenting with his powers had knocked him out a few times in the past week and he always came to shortly after, nearly drained of energy and mostly healed of serious injury.

Emphasis on _mostly._

 _Motherfuck It!_ Sparky mentally cursed. _I gotta finish the job too?_

Taking some slow deep breaths, he gave himself a moment to list where the pain seemed to be concentrated. _Ok...neck is an easy one. Ribs feel like shit too. Left knee hurts like a bitch and my… ass?_

Sparky frowned before taking a moment to clench his glutes. Letting out a wince, he shook his head. Apart from some minor bruising, that probably didn't need his immediate attention. Closing his eyes, Sparky mentally prodded at the collection of "sparks" he felt bouncing around inside him. With a thought, he mentally grasped roughly a quarter of what he had remaining.

He let out a breath, clenching his fist tightly as he did so, and envisioned in his head the places where he felt the most pain. With that done, he mentally pushed the sparks inwards.

Sparky gasped as electrical energy rolled off his skin, literally dancing across his body as it set to work healing his wounds. The smell of ozone wafted through the air, dulling the stench of rotten garbage by a great deal, something for which Sparky couldn't help but be thankful for.

Within moments, it was done and Sparky let out another breath before frowning again. The mental and semi-physical drain he felt from using up a tenth of his energy on a heal was almost as bad as the fact that his body still hurt in places. _Better than the last time I tried that. Wasted half a full charge on some fucking road rash._

"Still, I was at l-l-like a hundred before _,_ " Sparky thought aloud, musing over what he could feel was the remainder of his energy. "I'm like at f-forty something now. Gotta make that l-last." Shaking his head again, Sparky decided to let the issue go. Instead, he felt at his chest, trying to see how well his impromptu healing worked out.

As he groped himself, he couldn't help but notice that the front of his tracksuit felt crispy to the touch, the blue and white material stained by the black of burnt cloth and the red of what could only be blood.

He looked down again, wincing again as a pain rose in his side. Whatever had hit him had done a number on his clothes as the fabric had been charred in several places. A hand went to tug the zipper downwards so he could inspect himself further.

Sparky blinked in surprise as the small piece of metal came off as he touched it, leaving the melted remainder of a zipper in his hands. _Well, that's a fuckin' wash._

Rising shakily from the ground, he tried to take in his surroundings only to blink in confusion as he felt a breeze across his mouth. _My bandana's gone. Fuuuuck. It took me forever to find one that matched this tracksuit._

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Sparky glanced back at his surroundings, eyes narrowing behind his welding goggles as he realized what he had been laying on.

Brick walls and torn bags of rotting garbage surrounded him, prompting Sparky to look down at his hands. Another groan left his mouth, this time one of disgust. He took a moment to wipe the disgusting mess on his hands against a wall, frowning as he did so.

He turned and glanced around at his surroundings again, still confused. Sparky shook his head a moment later, trying to get himself back in working order. "What the h-hell hap-"

Before he could finish the thought, a shock suddenly passed through his skull, jolting him into action. Sparky whipped around, turning to see the pile of discarded garbage several feet behind him begin to rustle and shake.

An arm, large and near bursting with muscle, burst from the large mound of trash and torn garbage bags. Clawing at the bags and refuse around it, the hand immediately sunk into a overfilled garbage bag, tearing it open and adding the potent stench of spoiled food to the miasma already filling the alley.

Wincing again at the smell, Sparky took a cautious step back as another hand burst from the muck, a burly torso following after it.

Sparky opened his mouth to speak. Instead, he found himself coughing, gagging at the taste of blood in his mouth as the figure shakily rose to his feet. Wiping his mouth to rid himself of the taste of blood, Sparky took a closer look at the man currently pulling himself up.

The man raised his head and Sparky immediately stepped backwards, his eyes widening even in fear and shock.

Staring back at him was a roughly-made metal mask in the shape of a wolf's face. Beneath that was a well-muscled bare chest, covered in untrimmed hair and marked with a large tattoo of a wolf's head sitting on top of a swastika.

"Nice tats, man." Sparky blinked as the words rushed out of his mouth. For a moment, he noted that the sentence sounded odd, somewhat distant, as he said it. The thought vanished as his fear reasserted itself, utterly focused on the homicidal parahuman in front of him.

Hookwolf didn't say anything in return. Sparky did notice that his shoulders seemed to writhe for a moment before settling back into eerie stillness.

The neo-Nazi parahuman raised a beefy arm, pointing a finger directly at Sparky. "You… you hit me." Despite his angry posture, his voice was oddly quiet.

Sparky blinked, caught off guard by his words. "No, I didn't."

"Really?" The cape hunched over, curling his fingers like claws.

There it was again. The writhing shoulders. This time, the skin on his neck seemed to do the same.

"How the fuck do you think I got in this shit?" Hookwolf screamed out, gesturing to the pile of garbage he had risen from. "You hit me!"

Sparky took a step back, a bemused expression growing on his face. "Look, man, I'm not t-trying to m-m-mess with you."

The blonde man snarled. "I don't give a fuck about what you're trying to do, you little monkey. Do you think this is a fucking joke?"

Sparky frowned slightly at the slur Hookwolf threw at him, annoyance bubbling up inside him. Behind his back, his hand crept toward the conductive tool he hid in his waistband, preparing to attack the only way he could. _You're the only joke here, Fuckwolf._

Sparky blinked as the villain in question now openly growled, hunching over even further.

He blinked again as an idle thought made itself known. Head tilting to the side and long hair falling out of his hoodie, he said the first thing that came to mind. "I… I didn't say that l-last thing out l-loud, right?"

Hookwolf didn't answer. Not with words, at least.

Instead, like before, his skin began to ripple. The odd movement seemed to spread out from his collarbone and traveled all the way down his torso, making him look like he was vibrating.

Sparky chuckled, the action more out of nervousness than amusement. "I'mma t-take that as a yes."

Hookwolf exploded. This time, it wasn't heat or force that filled Sparky's vision.

It was a wall of pure, living, metal flying right towards him.

Sparky moved without thinking. Electricity rushed through his body, charging every muscle, nerve and sinew with energy and inhuman strength. Reflexes enhanced in a similar manner, he dove for safety as quickly as he could, eyes wide with terror as his mind screamed for him to run, _to move_ in ways he couldn't quite comprehend.

Blood splattered across the alley wall as the storm of shifting blades came into contact with the teenager's all-too-human body.


	59. Complications 2-19B

Complications 2.19B

* * *

The storm of whirling blades stopped at the end of alley entrance, falling to the ground. With the sound of grinding metal and the screeching din of swords being sharpened, the blades twisted and turned in on themselves, the entire mass shifting as it began to take a coherent form.

Blades as fine as needles, sharper than razors, and more intricate than most would think possible, twisted in and turned out. These metal parts grew and curved as they built came together, tearing at the ground below as a finished structure began to form.

A steel paw touched ground, scraping the concrete below it with claws better fitted for a knight's sword than anything belonging to a beast of nature. Three more followed it, all of them attached to massively built steel legs that stood almost a meter tall. A tail composed of raw blades shrieked as it extended from one end, the tip curling out like a hook.

Finally, a massive skull the size of a grown man's torso extended out of the unfinished mass, completing the terrifying picture; A wolf nearly the size of a pickup truck stood at the alley entrance, it's steel body glinting in the sunlight.

The beast known as Hookwolf began to move, his giant head swiveling around it's metallic body. With a sound of groaning steel, the massive wolf skull resettled into place, the tail now resting where it's head was.

Sharp eyes glanced down the alley, narrowing as Hookwolf saw something very wrong.

There was no dark-skinned corpse lying in the garbage where it belonged. No body for him to mutilate and take as a trophy, signifying the death of a parahuman that dared attack the Empire Eighty-Eight in any way. The cape had vanished… somehow.

The sound of metal crashing against itself was heard as the superhuman Neo-Nazi let out a growl, his facsimile of lungs creating the monstrous sound. His mind raced as he tried to think of exactly how the cape could have escaped in the seconds before he had turned around. _Mover, definitely. Brute?_

The question hung in his thoughts. Hookwolf knew for a fact that his body had come into contact with the cape's own. He had killed far too many people that way to not know how a normal human body felt against his blades. That young cape had felt somewhat more… resilient than most but he bled just as easily as anyone else.

Hookwolf bristled, his metallic fur spiking and standing on razor-sharp ends for an instant, before his eyes narrowed even further.

Fresh blood and chunks of flesh stained the alley walls, splattered the dumpsters, and pooled upon the garbage bags below his claws. More than that, his blood seemed to be... everywhere, without concern for direction.

 _No, definitely not a Brute._

With the creaking sound of bending mental, the beast leapt, crossing the alley's length in a single bound. Like his namesake, Hookwolf was graceful in this form, landing in the middle of the rubble-filled street.

Blood splatter stained the ground in front of his sword-like claws, infrequent stains creating a shaky path toward the PRT HQ.

The wolf head screeched as it shifted again, metal maw forming into a rictus-like grin that did not belong on an animal's face.

There was no rush. He would find him and then he would hunt.

* * *

Gasps.

Pained, dry gasps were the only sound Sparky could make.

He couldn't find it in him to scream, throat too wracked with pain to do more than groan. He knew Hookwolf was looking for him. Increasing that bastard's chances of finishing the job wasn't something he was interested in and Sparky knew there was no way he could escape that massive shapeshifting razor-beast thing. Not like this, at least.

His right hand gripped his left side tighter, cloth wrapped around his palm as he desperately tried to keep his insides where they belonged. _Fuckfuckfuckfuck…._

It had been less two minutes since he had barely avoided being blended into mush by Hookwolf. Another sixty seconds since he had wasted even more "sparks" just to move the tiniest bit faster to get away and thirty since he had been sent running from a literal war zone.

Sparky grit his teeth as his right leg twitched again, the cause for the sudden upsurge of pain. Bloodstained teeth clamped down on his lips as he bit back a groan, tears filling up his cracked welding goggles. _Fuckfuckfuckfuck…._

His left hand wrapped tightly around the frayed wires connecting to a junction box on the alley well. His veins near his palms lit up with a blue glow, buzzing with energy as streams of electricity were pulled from the building's electrical system and into Sparky's drained body. The rush of electricity was like anesthesia, partially numbing the pain as soon as it hit his system.

Blue sparks danced on the surface of his skin, looping around a growing spot of red on his tracksuit bottoms as the gaping hole in his thigh knitted itself back together. He let out a choked breath as it stopped, only to bite back another groan as his shoulder began to undergo the same pain, new muscle and skin growing at an accelerated rate.

First, it was a broken right leg, then his exploded left thigh and now his shoulder. Healing hurt like a bitch. _Still better than dying..._

Running from Hookwolf had been the only thing on his mind not too long ago, the adrenaline rush from that instinctual ideal for self-preservation blocking out all thoughts of pain. Combined with the tunnel-vision that using his speed gave him, he was essentially lost to all thought. In that fugue state, he had simply _moved_ , uncaring of direction.

The moment Hookwolf's razor form had touched his skin, grinding away at his left side, Sparky's mind had gone into overdrive. He pulled away from the villain, jumping up at super-speed. Sneakered feet touched the alley wall, fighting gravity as they kicked against it, brick crumbling as his body launched him up and over a building. He didn't remember touching the street but he must have at some point, right?

Every movement he made as he rushed towards Downtown Brockton tugged at the wound Hookwolf had torn into him. Every single step he took threatening to widen the gash even as sparks ran up and down his left side, draining him as it knitted him back together.

In less than fifteen seconds, he had found himself about a block or two from the PRT Headquarters.

The same one that was under siege by the fucking ABB.

Finding himself in the middle of a gunfight between Asian gangbangers and soldiers trained to take on parahumans sent Sparky running back in the other direction. Unfortunately, not before several guns were aimed his way.

His first thought had been to fire first, using his wand to launch shots of electricity before the ABB could gun him down. It took him less than a second of grasping at his torn jacket for him to realize that Hookwolf had torn through the lining of his tracksuit top, the same place where he had kept his aluminum pipe.

At that point, they had started shooting and he had to start moving. Reflexes enhanced by his speed and simple dumb luck were all that kept him alive amidst a hailstorm of bullets. Quick dashes and serpentine movements had managed to tide him over as he did his best to escape, the injury at his side still hindering him even as it began to heal over.

Sparky knew he was fast. The last eight days of practice with his powers had taught him a lot about exactly how quickly he could move. On his first day out practicing his powers, he had a handgun pulled on him, some unlucky idiot demanding his money. Sparky learned two things that day.

One, he could heal from a bullet graze wound in about thirty seconds, forty-five at most. Secondly, bullets were fast, like almost three times his fastest speed.

The human eye couldn't see a bullet in flight from a handgun, especially when it was aimed at them. It was just way too fast for the brain to keep up with.

Sparky, on the other hand, could. Even then, it took all he could to move out of the way in time.

A simple online search that same day had told him that rifles were almost twice as powerful as any handgun, which was fucking terrifying to realize. That information had remained in his head for the past week and had jumped to the forefront of his thoughts a few minutes ago when he found himself face to face with them.

In the end, all it took was two.

Two bullets fired from two different rifles both moving over twice the speed of sound.

One grazed his shoulder, nearly sending him to the floor screaming. It took all he had to catch himself and keep running. The second bullet struck him directly, ripping his thigh apart like an explosion of lead through flesh.

This time, there was no catching himself, no pushing past it.

Sparky flailed, his mouth open in a strangled cry of pain as his mind tried to process the situation. Unable to stop and in too much pain to even think of doing so, he slammed into the ground at super speed and skipped across the pavement like a stone, finally coming to a stop near a side street just inches from another alley.

This time, he didn't pass out. Landing right on top of an electrical junction box had given him enough of a charge that his body could start pulling itself together. Unfortunately, his original wound, already partly healed, had been torn open by his sudden contact with the pavement at highway speeds and Sparky was forced to add a broken leg and road rash to his list of injuries. It wasn't the first time he had dealt with those injuries and his body seemed to handle them quicker, his powers taking care of them first before continuing to repair the rest of him.

Lightning danced across his left side, leaving a tingling sensation behind as it moved up and down the gash, pushing out gravel and leaving behind unblemished skin. Sparky let out a hiss as his skin and muscle began to sting, newly regrown nerves firing off phantom pain signals.

Glancing down at himself, Sparky let out a groan, this time out of frustration rather than pain. His costume - a hooded tracksuit he had appropriated from a thrift store - was essentially nonexistent at this point. His top, already shredded by Hookwolf, had been rendered useless after he had used it to bandage his side. His pants, or rather one leg of them, had been stained with blood and torn by a bullet tearing through them. His high-tops were basically hanging on by a threat

As he lay on the grimy sidewalk, Sparky realized that in the condition he was in - blood-covered, shirtless and surrounded by rubble and trash-, he most likely looked like a dead body.

The thought brought a giggle to his lips and he rolled his neck, sighing as he heard a few cracks.

Gripping the grimy brick wall with his right hand, Sparky pulled himself up to a sitting position, fingers on his other hand still firmly gripping the dangling wires of the junction box. Electricity played around his left arm, doing nothing as the powerful arc had petered down to a slow trickle. It didn't take much for to charge up and as long as he had a source of electricity, it didn't take long for him to heal either. Even then, he didn't want to let go of the wires if he didn't have to

Sparky prodded at the energy inside him, attention focused on trying to measure if he was "full" or not. Trying to understand how his aptly named "sparks" worked could be fucking annoying.

He found it really stupid that there was no real way to measure how many he was using at a time. Eyeballing it was all he could manage, guessing at percentages the only option he had available to him. Still, he needed to use it and accuracy wasn't always needed.

With a mental push, he directed some of it to his skin, the electricity numbing the phantom pain as soon as it hit him. In the back of his mind, a few small lights dimmed only to be instantly relighted as electrical energy from the junction box topped him back up. A relaxed sigh burst from his lips, uncomfortable expression tilting upwards in a light smile.

"Oh fuck, that's so much better," Sparky muttered. Lifting his cracked welding goggles, Sparky tossed them to the side and rubbed at his eyes, blinking away dried tears. "Man, I cried like a bitch, huh?"

Sparky gave a mental shrug at the question. The last 5 minutes had been like one hell after another. From nearly getting shredded by the world's most racist blender to getting shot, to hitting the ground at super speed…

Sparky winced. "F-fuck." He really had been through a lot today. _I mean, I think I almost died. If anyone deserves to cry, it's me._

His eyes widened at the thought and Sparky's chest began to rise and fall a bit faster, fingers twitching at his side.

"... I almost died. I... almost... d-d-d-died," he muttered, closing his eyes. "F-f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuck… Fuck!"

Sparky shuddered, his words sending a twinge of phantom pain through him. A moment later, he realized he had both hands wrapped tightly around himself as he say against the wall.

He glanced again at his left hand before turning to look at the junction box at his side. "When did…"

Reaching out, Sparky grasped for the loose wires one more time. An instant later, he let out a choked gasp, jumping the moment he felt the current hit him.

"F-fuck." He gasped again, breath coming in rapid puffs. Again, his hands were twitching. Absorbing electricity didn't hurt. Not at all. In fact, Sparky doubted any amount of electricity could really hurt him now but, still…

For a moment, he could remember the first time he had absorbed it. Last week, all of it hitting him at once…

So much screaming…

The whole world going white…

Again, a shudder ran through his body.

No matter how much he charged up, no matter how many times he shoved his fingers in an outlet, draining until his hair stood on end and his eyes began to glow blue, he couldn't shake the twinge he felt in his bones. No matter what he did. it still wasn't easy for him to shake off the idea that electricity was supposed to be dangerous.

"Fuck. Fuck. Okay, f-fuck." Sparky shook his head, long brown hair falling over his eyes, greasy strands touching sweaty brown skin. "I'm c-covered in sweat, blood and other sh-sh-sh-sh… _fuck_!" He hissed violently as his stutter acted up again. "Shit!"

Breathing in through his nose, he let out an explosive sigh and leaned back until his head touched the alley wall again. "F-fuck this city. Fuck the N-nazis. F-f-fuck Hookwolf. Fucking F-Fuckwolf!"

He emphasized the last word by him slamming his fist into the ground. A look of disgust crossed his face as his hand came down with a squishing sound on some… liquid that he couldn't quite identify.

"F-fuck me." Sparky shuddered again, rubbing his hand against his bloody rags without much luck. "Fuck, I need a fucking sh-shower. I need…," he glanced down at his bare chest and tattered pants, "a new c-costume. I need… I n-need…"

 _I need to smoke._ Sparky sat up a bit straighter at the thought before snorting. Unable to hold it back, he found himself outright laughing like an idiot, all the while sitting in a grimy alley looking like a homeless person. _God, I need a fucking blunt right now._

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Wrenched from his own thoughts by the sound of a whooping voice, Sparky glanced up as a flash of light passed overhead.

"Fuck! Now, I actually n-need the shitty goggles!" Blinking and groaning at the glare, Greg opened one eye to see what looked like a golden glowing meteor arcing through the air. _Whatever it is, it looks like it's gonna land right in the middle of the PRT._

"Huh, g-gotta be a cape then," Sparky muttered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Prob'ly Super Barbie g-going to fuck up some ABB."

A small smirk appeared on his face as he imagined the look on the ABB's face when Glory Girl handed them their asses. A moment later, that smirk dropped into a frown as he remembered that the figure he had assumed to be Glory Girl hadn't been wearing her trademark white dress-robe thing.

Instead, they were wearing black and red clothes.

And they had short hair.

And they were probably a dude.

 _Holy shit!_ Sparky blinked again as he came to a shocking conclusion.

… _Veder didn't tell me he could fucking fly!_

* * *

 **Author's Note: Yes, I finished this chapter. It's a whole thing.**

 **To be honest, I underestimated exactly how much time I spent writing in the past and how bored I would be stuck at home. Technically, this doesn't mean the hiatus is over. I was just really, really fucking bored. All I had to look forward to was Rick & Morty as well as finishing work for some clients. So, yes, I finished the chapter. You know I actively didn't want to post this because I really didn't want to look like I was welching on the hiatus statement.**

 **I mean, you people have no idea how bored I am. I wiped my PS3 on purpose so I'd be forced to either replay everything or buy a PS4. That was so fucking stupid because I lost all my Xenoverse playthroughs.**

 **Honestly, I am literally making messes for myself to clean. I started learning how to play the piano because I am THAT FUCKING BORED. So, I might update sometimes. Maybe.**

 **FUCK. It might just depend on my mood.**


	60. Interlude 2n: Raymond Shen

Interlude 2o: Raymond Shen 

* * *

He had dropped into his seat, eyes already closed and breathing heavy, when he heard it.

The alarm klaxon rang out - loud, constant, and so very annoying - while red lights flashed brightly enough for him to tell even with his eyes shut. Outside his office, PRT officers ran to their stations in full tactical gear, ready to fight against the worst the city had to offer. Their footfalls struck the ground like thunder, the sound of heavy tread repeatedly hitting linoleum tile far too loud for him to rest.

His eyes opened slowly, a resigned frown on his wrinkled face. He let out a sigh, shaking his head. Leaning forward in his leather chair, Shen pulled open his topmost desk drawer and extended a hand into it. He fumbled audibly for a few moments, hand knocking aside papers, pencils and other before the noise stopped. In the drawer, his old digits clasped a metal latch firmly. With a grunt, he pulled it.

With a thump, a small recess opened up in the side of his desk.

Like he had done so many times before, Shen gripped the armrests of his office chair and pushed himself up, ignoring the protesting of his bones. Without even looking, he pocketed the only item hidden in his desk's compartment - a small cylinder filled with liquid- and shut the opening to the compartment.

He gave a sigh as tired eyes glanced around his cluttered office, passing over each accolade or award with a grim finality.

His gaze fell upon a picture of a much younger man kneeling, surrounded by two children. A crinkled smile grew on his face, lips curling upward wistfully. A hand dived into his breast pocket, retrieving a PRT-issued mobile phone.

Smile frozen on his lips, he entered a number and waited as it rang.

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

Shen's smile faded slightly as the phone continued to ring, each individual tone dimming his expression ever so slightly. The elder man began putting his thoughts together for a voicemail when someone picked up the call. 

"Hi, Daddy."

"Lilyflower?"

"Yes?"

She stretched out the word.

"Everything okay, bàba?"

Shen let out a forced chuckle.

"Of course, Lily. Everything's fine."

"But… wait, isn't that the emergency alarm?"

Her voice rose in pitch.

"Daddy, what's going on?"

Not for the first time in his life, Shen wished that his daughter had chosen to work anywhere else other than with the PRT. It just made lying to her so much harder when she knew what was going on.

"It's nothing, Lily."

Shen let out a sigh as he spoke the words, well aware that wouldn't dissuade his daughter.

"Bàba."

Her tone, usually as soft as her mother's, hardened as she spoke the word. For just a moment, Shen could hear hints of himself in her voice. His smile widened and he couldn't help but relent.

"It's just the ABB being degenerates, as usual."

Lily let out a gasp and Shen nodded, expecting this reaction.

"Oh, Dad! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine. The building is on lockdown like you'd expect."

"Oh, that's… that's good."

Shen hear her sigh in relief.

"So, what did you need?"

Shen paused, glancing up at his door.

"Is Jian alright?"

"Johnny? He…"

There was a pause and what might have been a sigh.

"Lily?"

She stayed silent for a few more seconds before speaking.

"Johnny got home a bit after you left, Dad. He's been sitting at the kitchen table all morning."

Shen's fist clenched tight even as the bones in his hand protested.

"Is he…" Shen left the sentence trail off, knowing his daughter understood.

"He's not eating. He's not talking. I even tried hugging him but he won't even let me touch him, D-daddy."

Lily's voice broke and Shen knew if she were in front of him, he would see her eyes beginning to water.

"Wh… What's wrong with him?"

"Those monsters gave him a tattoo, Dad! The ABB initiated him! Do you know what that means? Do you know what they made him do?"

As the hairs on the back of his neck rose, Shen took in a sharp breath, his mind suddenly resolved.

"I have to go, Lily."

"Dad?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Dad but..."

Shen took no notice of her words, continuing with what he was saying.

"You've grown up into a beautiful, smart young woman and you remind me of your mother every single day."

"Dad? Dad, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm proud of you. Your mother would have loved to see you grow up. The both of you…"

"Dad, just talk to me!"

" Tell Jian I love him and I'm proud of him too. Tell him I'm sorry for… everything. Tell him…"

He paused.

"Dad, you're not making any sense!"

Her voice was shrill now, fear as much as confusion making it so.

"Tell Jian I tried. Tell him that 'Bàba tried his very best.'"

"What? Dad! Dad!"

"Take care of your little brother, Lily."

"Bàba? Bàba? Ba-!" 

Shen cut the call off, interrupting his daughter as she screamed for him in Chinese. A single tap put the phone into Airplane Mode, preventing her from reaching him.

 _I can explain myself later. Now is the time for action._

With that thought in mind, Shen turned the photo of his family over, laying the frame flat against his desk.

He turned his back on his office and left the room, stepping into a hallway of flashing lights and the din of an alerting klaxon. The walkways are empty, officers have long moved into position to guard the points of entrance as well as protecting sensitive areas.

With those sensitive areas under guard, Shen knew that a vast majority of the building was under lockdown, extremely solid doors preventing free movement throughout the building.

With a calm frankly out of place amid flashing lights and blaring alarms, Raymond Shen strode over to the elevator doors. Tapping his keycard against a wall scanner, he bent over and allowed it to scan his retinas as well.

To his right, a door smoothly slid open and Shen stepped in, pressing a single button.

The door slid shut, sealing him off from the blaring alarm and flashing emergency lights, and the elevator began to descend. Shen closed his eyes, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. _Now is the time for action._

Raymond Shen was a man with a habit.

A rather bad habit.

For most people, their bad habits tended to revolve around alcohol, sex, drugs or gambling. For Raymond Shen, it had been a long time since he had bothered with any of those.

No, deviant behavior was no longer anything that Raymond involved himself with. He left those behind in his younger days. Raymond's bad habit was unexpected, yet ultimately just as life-altering.

To put it simply, he just took too long to make decisions.

If he were a less thoughtful man, less experienced, he would proclaim that as one of his best qualities.

He knew very well how idiotic that line of thought was. Indecision was the trait of a fool, someone so caught up in his own thoughts that he could no longer trust himself to make a decision and live with the consequences.

Shen knew he had wasted his youth, spending his time working for the Triads of Old China. Years spent drinking, whoring and committing crimes at the behest of others had worn him out much quicker than he expected. Eventually, he was torn between the decision to flee to America or stay loyal to the Old Triads.

At twenty-five, he left his home country, forced to escape due to the increasing rumors of a new revolution taking place. With no desire to be culled by a possibly violent new regime, he fled and made a home for himself on the East Coast of the United States.

He had left the mainland in 1986, only two years before the Chinese Union-Imperial made themselves public and reintroduced imperial rule to the then-Communist country.

He had held off on advancing his education, only starting once he had come to the U.S.

He delayed having children, only for both of them to occur when he and his wife had not been prepared.

He had delayed so many more times.

This time would not be one of them.

A hand rose, adjusting his glasses for a few moments, before dropping back to the side of his white coat. The elevator door opened to a small room with only one other door. Four officers stood in front of it, each a good head taller than him at the very least. He nods to them, paying them no real attention as he holds his ID card to the scanner on the wall. His retinal scan came next, followed by him placing his index, ring finger and thumb on the scanner just below.

The screen on the door flashed blue three times and the officers surrounding him tensed, the action only visible to him because he had seen it so many times before. Shen knew what to do next.

"Name, Raymond Shen. ID, PRT-ENE-SS-15349. Class 4."

The door flashed green and around him, the PRT security relaxed slightly.

Slightly.

"Doctor," they spoke in unison, nodding at him.

One of them, the tallest, stepped forward. "Your intentions in the Hold today, Dr. Shen?"

Shen nodded back absentmindedly, glancing at the officer's name tag before responding. "Just upping the prisoner's dosage, Sergeant Morse. Wouldn't do to have him break out right now, would it?"

The sergeant gave an almost imperceptible nod, hand still firmly gripping his rifle. "Anything to declare?"

Shen was well aware that the elevator had already scanned him on the way down to this area. If he had a weapon on him, these four would already know. Still…

He lifted a soda can-sized cylinder from the pocket of his lab coat, displaying the contents of the opaque container. "Simply a stronger anesthetic." With that said, Shen lowered the canister back into his coat.

The PRT agent remained silent, dark visor fixed on Shen as he stood in the small enclosure. Shen stared back, jovial expression still present on his face.

"Something wrong, Sergeant?"

"..."

"Sergeant?" Shen's expression tightened for a moment, his smile fading just a bit. The squad of guards tensed up again, gloved hands gripping their guns tighter as they each took a half-step forward to box Shen in.

The tension held for a few seconds more, only easing up once Morse shook his head slightly, retreating until his back was to the wall, his men doing the same.

"Nothing, Doctor. Just protocol. You're free to enter."

After a moment's hesitation, his finger pausing halfway to a panel by the door, Sergeant Morse seemed to relax and entered in a string of numbers.

A moment later, the flashing door let out a pneumatic hiss and with a puff of air, the door opened inwards. Shen entered into a long, empty concrete-lined hallway, allowing the door to close shut behind him with a heavy noise of metal hitting metal.

Shen walked into the room, not even glancing at the several enclosures that filled it as he headed towards the very end of the long hallway. Made with concrete, steel and bulletproof glass, each enclosure was essentially a cage designed to hold the types of criminals that the PRT specialized in. Affectionately referred to as the Hold, this area was where only the most dangerous of capes were kept before their eventual transfer to a more spacious and isolated facility. Each enclosure was lined with foam sprayers designed to be triggered by a breakout attempt.

As of now, there was only one occupant.

Shen stared at the comatose man through the bulletproof glass, a feeling of intense rage broiling the longer he looked. The man who had cost him so much over the past decade, the very Dragon himself...

 _Lung_.

The parahuman gang leader stood upright, shackled to the wall, multiple IV's attached to both arms and one, a central line catheter, directly to his heart. Each ran a powerful anesthetic directly into his bloodstream in order to keep the man in a coma. Shen's eyes passed over the two other catheters attached to lines lower in his body, uninterested in dwelling on the intricacies of the parahuman's waste removal.

Despite being comatose, Lung was still intimidating. Standing at nearly seven feet tall, the man towered over most men and Shen in particular. Shen's glare lowered from Lung's face, which was rather attractive despite the monster it was attached to, to his large and well-muscled torso. Despite being dressed in an orange jumpsuit, the top had been left hanging at the waist to allow easy access to the IV's.

Instinctively, Shen's hand raised to touch his own, the dragons on his chest and arms seeming to itch the longer he looked at Lung's.

"I was a fool," Shen suddenly spoke out loud to no one, voice croaking slightly. "A fool to think that sort of life could ever hold anything for me."

The old man stepped closer to the door of the enclosure, eyes drifting downwards to the futuristic mechanism in front of him. In order to ensure safety and limit close contact with parahumans, Armsmaster had rigged up an automatic IV dispenser attached to the door. He stared at the contraption for a moment longer, the engine-like design still as fascinating as the day he was first introduced to it.

All one had to do was switch the canisters and the IV's would cycle contents, delivering a chemical cocktail directly into the veins of the gang lord.

A hand slid into the pocket of his lab coat, rising a moment later with the same cylinder he had shown the guards. A pinkish liquid sat inside the cylinder, a large bubble of the substance trapped at the top. Without any fanfare, Shen pushed the canister into the opening at the top of the mechanism, ignoring the other two vents. With a flick of a finger, he set the machine for immediate delivery.

The device hummed and moments later, rose-colored fluid began to travel through the tubing directly into Lung's heart.

He had lied to the sergeant, of course. These machines were Tinker-designed, by Armsmaster, no less. If they relied on a person to come down and reload the fluid, they wouldn't be very effective.

No, he hadn't given Lung anything as mild as a sedative.

 _Phenol._

A powerful poison mostly known for it's use in Auschwitz, of all places, phenol was a brutally efficient toxin. Not only that, phenol was extremely caustic, capable of delivering burns to skin immediately on contact. It was said that as little as 10 milliliters could kill an adult male in under thirty seconds when injected directly to the heart, burning veins and arteries as it spread throughout the body.

Never one to not be thorough, Shen had dosed Lung with over _forty times that much._

As he watched the fluid enter Lung's body, Shen couldn't help but feel a bitter sort of happiness, his eyes burning with hatred. Lung and his ABB had cost his family far too much. This was long-deserved.

Lung's body tensed, his muscles going rigid against his restraints as his tan skin rapidly began to pale. A moment later, he began to spasm, his muscles tensing even further as his unconscious body began to buck and jerk. Blood poured from his wrists, his skin tearing from the titanium cuffs biting into his skin as the dying man continued his death throes.

As morbid as the sight may have been, Shen could not wrench his gaze away. He knew Lung's blood was essentially burning him alive from the inside out, a cruel death for anyone. Still, this was revenge. For his wife, for his son…

As quickly as it had started, Lung's violent trembling stopped. His head hung limply and his chest ceased it's rising and falling. The the last of the pink fluid drained into his heart and Shen felt a weight lift from his own chest.

The old man let out a breath. "Finally."

" **Nghhh."**

Shen's head snapped up, his brown eyes meeting Lung's own fiery orbs in an instant.

 _No. No. No._

Inhuman muscle flexed, growing in a burst of grotesque motion. Shackles snapped from the pressure, sending small pieces of metal flying like bullets.

Lung's bare feet landed on the concrete floor of his cell, followed by the rest of him as he fell to both hands and knees.

For a moment, Shen allowed himself to feel hope.

That hope died as glowing eyes snapped back up and Lung's cell exploded.

Shen backed up against the wall, hand to his mouth as he tried to cough past the dust. trying to see past the dense smoke and clouds of concrete dust. Even with the sound of alarms and the deafening roars, he heard the slam of a door as it hit metal with a resonating _clang._

"WEAPONS FREE!" Someone shouted out.

The guns - whatever type they were, Shen didn't know - went off. Thunder boomed in the Hold, nearly rendering him blind. Roars were heard constantly. Angry, inhuman roars. Screams of pain were also heard from the other end of the room yet one after another, they were silenced with the sound of bellowing yells and thick, fleshy impacts.

As the smoke cleared, Shen found himself shuddering at the sight.

Everything was stained. Concrete walls dripped with blood and bits of flesh while larger pieces… clothing…vertebrae… bones... everything else floated in pools of red. A soldier's visored head hung against a broken light fixture, tinting the light it gave off an odd scarlet.

Blood, bile, visceral gore, it all stained the area.

A beast of a man stood in the middle of the hallway, the top of his head brushing the ceiling. His body rippled with red, the gory remains of his guards coating his body. A single, blood-drenched, arm hung from the massive frame, grotesque and leathery, while nearly twice as large as the other one.

"Lung?" The word fell out of his mouth as nothing more than a choked whisper, a question more to himself than anyone else. He regretted it all the same.

But it was too late.

Blazing eyes turned to face him, monstrous orbs on a fitting face.

A weaker man would have run, possibly begged.

Shen was not that man.

He pulled himself to his feet, and sent a glare at the beast, daring it to approach him.

It dared.

Shen didn't blink.

If he had, he would have missed the movement.

Lung moved like a barreling train, nearly eight feet of raw muscle with superhuman strength. A palm struck Shen's chest, slamming him into the partially shattered concrete wall behind him with enough force to crack ribs.

Before Shen could so much as gasp for breath, a face - Lung's face - shoved itself into his, forcing Shen to shut his mouth lest he breath in the haze of smoke surrounding Lung's head. The sight of his face is like watching lava spread. Flesh bubbles and ripples, shifting as lines and patterns of red and black grow and stretch, seemingly unstable in it's makeup.

A glob of something red, thick and stringy falls from Lung's gaping mouth followed by a stream of dripping red liquid. Shen felt his stomach protest at the sight. _Intestines. The monster._

As the smoke burnt his lungs and he struggled to breathe through the pressure on his chest, Shen wondered if he could have made a mistake. Was the solution not concentrated enough, the amount too little?

Glowing orange pupils glared at him, constantly flicking between normal orbs and lizard-like slits as his mouth emitted thick, cloying smoke. Staring death in the face, Shen shook away the thought.

 _No,_ he realized. _I just underestimated him._

" **WHO SENT YOU?"**

Shen's eyes widened as Lung spoke, more shocked by the question than his demonic voice.

"What?" Shen forced the word out through crushed lungs, barely managing to say that much before he felt blood rise in the back of his throat.

" **You aren't PRT. I have no Kill Order!"**

Shen watched as Lung's fangs grew in his mouth as he spoke, the visual similar to a time lapsed video.

" **Poison? You use POISON on me? ON LUNG?"**

Shen nodded, simply out of shock. **  
**

" **Yàngbǎn** **? They send you? TALK OR DIE!"**

Dry and brittle laughter creaked its way out of Shen's broken body, even as every rise and fall of his chest sent stabbing pains through his midsection. Lung's massive reptilian claw, grotesquely out of proportion with the rest of him, seemed to slowly tighten around him. For the first time, Shen suddenly realized that the red covering Lung wasn't completely the blood of his victims. Under his sight, the man's skin rippled in multiple places, leaving bright red scales behind.

Even as his chest burned from the heat of Lung's iron-hard flesh and acrid smoke filled his airways, a wry smile grew on Shen's face. He closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts going to his children once more.

Opening his eyes, Shen forced his face into a bitter grin, smiling directly into Lung's angry maw. He felt like screaming but he wouldn't dream of it, unwilling to give the beastly man the satisfaction.

"Do i-it."

His words were weak but he said them with finality, grim resignation giving them weight.

The red spread across Lung's monstrous face, a rippling wave of flesh changing color and texture. Both of his eyes slitted completely, losing humanity in an instant.

Roaring directly in the old man's face, Lung drew his fist back, the limb bursting into flame at the elbow.

Shen closed his eyes again, still smiling.

 _Bàba tried._

* * *

 **Yes, I wrote a chapter. Again, I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH MY TIME.**

 **A man can only play Infamous 2 so many times before he'd rather suck Cole McGrath's dick while underwater than see another fucking lightning bolt hit a bad guy.**


	61. Complications 2-20

Complications 2.20

* * *

Armsmaster hastily dodged the projectiles thrown his way, rolling to the side immediately. He jumped forward a moment before the two exploded behind his back, riding the momentum of the blast wave like an updraft as he smashed an elbow into the face of an ABB.

Following the instructions of his HUD, he lashed out to the right with his halberd, smashing a gauntleted fist into the face of a gangster. As his feet touched ground, his strike hit home, the base of his weapon sending a burst of electricity directly into the body of his assailant, forcing the body to spasm. His limbs jerked violently for a few moments before he fell to the cracked asphalt, limp yet still twitching.

How long had he been at this? Armsmaster didn't have to bother to guess, the blue display on his helmet feeding him a constant stream of information. Active combat time, heart rate, ammo count, _number of enemy combatants…_

An ABB thug armed with a shotgun convulsed and slumped over before he could get a shot off as Armsmaster spun his weapon and repeated the action on him, his body falling on top of his fellow gang member. Armsmaster swung his halberd again, slamming the blunt side of the blade into another gangster and sending him to the ground with an elbow to the face.

A standing kick struck the chest of yet one more, the added force from his armor sending the thug flying into a group of his peers.

* * *

 _4 Combatants Targeted_

 _Behind, 8 meters_

* * *

The warning from his HUD flared up and Armsmaster jumped backwards. He raised an arm in defense, his eyes widening as his visor highlighted the weapons in the hands of his attackers.

* * *

 _9MM SMITH & WESSON X2_

 _9MM HI-POINT_

 _.45 GLOCK_

* * *

As they fired, sparks appeared over Armsmaster's raised arm in the shape of a circle, trapping several bullets in a wall of electricity that seemed to hover in the air. Faster than the gangsters could react, the construct disappeared and the bullets reversed direction, speeding back in the direction they came from.

 _Polarity shield, functioning as designed,_ Armsmaster thought to himself, as he angled his body out of the direction of another bullet.

5:30

 _Nearly six minutes._

He had entered combat nearly six minutes ago, thrust from his lab by alarms warning him of an attack downtown. In the end, he wasn't surprised when it came time to face off against wave after wave of Azn Bad Boys. No, the ABB, Brockton Bay's second largest gang, could always to be counted on to be involved in some sort of idiocy like this.

Apparently, the group had decided to launch an attack on the PRT Headquarters in the middle of Downtown Brockton Bay. While Armsmaster had a good idea as to why they had decided on something so monumentally stupid, he really didn't care much about their reasoning.

 _At this point,_ he thought, one armored fist delivering a salvo of blows to a gangster's stomach, _I'd rather they all just killed each other and saved me the trouble._ A vicious right sent the insensate thug sprawling to the asphalt, blood flying from his mouth.

 _AmsCycle: Anti-Tampering Modules Activated_

Armsmaster whipped his head around to glance down the block, just in time to hear the high-pitched scream of an ABB as his motorcycle put him down with the equivalent of a military-grade taser. It was almost inaudible over the din of the ABB's shouting and the gunfire interspersed throughout the city but he caught it and couldn't help but smirk.

Due to the massive roadblock the ABB had caused in a five-block radius around the PRT building with their explosives and general mayhem, Armsmaster was forced to leave his motorcycle behind, but not without protection. Already angry about that, the armored parahuman decided to simply take down any ABB he came into contact with while on foot. Unsurprisingly, there was nearly an army of Asians in his path, an armed mass over three dozen strong.

The street around him was filled with derelict cars, destroyed vans, and scattered rubble, a testament to the actions of the gangsters. Portions of the street and sidewalk were cracked and cratered in places, obviously through the use of grenades and other exotic explosives, again another testament to the ABB. Armsmaster could only be glad that the criminals had the sense not to down any power lines, although he doubted that was out of forethought rather than sheer luck. _A third of the Boardwalk and portions of the Trainyard still don't have any power since last week._

His smirk almost flashed into a scowl as he remembered that when he had arrived on the scene, there were some police officers trying to fight against the ABB.

 _Trying_ being the operative term there.

The officers, Brockton Bay's finest, had turned tail and ran as soon as they saw him taking down the gang members. Armsmaster couldn't fully blame them. He had the situation well under control and the cops would be far more useful in areas that the capes couldn't get to right now.

 _Still,_ Armsmaster fumed, dodging a hail of buckshot and countering with an electrified dart shot from his halberd, _would it have bothered them to leave one or two behind as backup?_

His HUD flashed in the corner of his vision, warning him again. With skill honed from years of experience, he twisted his body, presenting a smaller target. An instant later, a bullet shot past him, an inch away from grazing his ribs.

Jumping back, Armsmaster pressed a button on his halberd and a metallic cord shot out from it, aimed directly at the one who last fired at him, a heavyset man with Korean features. The needle attached to the line sunk into the man's chest, easily penetrating his clothing. Like a puppet with it's strings cut, he collapsed.

Armsmaster fell to the ground as his HUD blared another warning in his ear, dodging a hail of bullets that would have struck him in the back had he not moved. He flipped to his feet, avoiding even more shots as he ran towards a large mob of ABB using a line of wrecked vans as cover.

He started moving, closing the distance at a pace that would have been unthinkable before, his suit enhancing his movements past what his former armor would have been capable of. _Still_ , Armsmaster mused, spinning the staff of his halberd to trip an attacker, _enhanced physical ability, less weight and enhanced reaction time while giving up increased overall protection and weapon variability isn't exactly optimal._

After testing his modified suit in live combat over the past eight days, Armsmaster had been wondering if his modifications had resulted in more of a lateral move as opposed to a direct upgrade. Choosing advanced nano-material over layers of thick, bulletproof armor plating had forced him to change his fighting style. While his suit was effectively impact-resistant, it was designed with a mind towards blunt impacts and extreme temperatures. Even though he was in no danger of dying from bullets, Armsmaster knew that the pain would be an unneeded distraction.

Still, despite a limited loadout, Armsmaster couldn't help but appreciate his new suit. In his opinion, it was just short of a masterpiece. The design was an armored silver with raised portions of dark gray paneling around the chest and the undersides of his arms and legs. A triangle, the only visible part of the generator that powered the suit, glowed a bright blue on the center of his chest creating what looked like an emblem in the shape of a letter A.

From that triangle, thick glowing lines spread out across the entire suit, curving across his shoulders and waist and stopping at his wrists and ankles. Most impressive of all was the fact that the entire suit, sans the helmet, was made from recycled nano-material. The silver material, which molded to his body like a second skin, amplified his strength and agility several times more than his former armor.

In short, it was an impressive feat of Tinker engineering.

Armsmaster tore himself from his self-indulgent musing to jab a shotgun-wielding gangster in the throat, delivering a ruthless hook to the gangster's face before he could so much as stumble back. Swinging his left leg back, he whipped around to face another quickly approaching ABB. _Idiot._

The idiot in question whipped his gun up to take aim. He wasn't fast enough, not before and certainly not now. With speed that he could only thank technology for, Armsmaster launched himself forward and wrenched the gun to the side an instant before the thug pulled the trigger.

A gunshot rang out. The bullet itself skittered on the asphalt.

For a moment, the ABB stared at Armsmaster, hazel eyes wide in fear. A gauntleted hand clasped around the gang member's skull and the superhero jerked his head forward. A sickening crunch followed as titanium plating met soft cartilage.

 _Engaging from the front would be far too dangerous_ , he thought, his mind switching to focus on strategy even as more thugs surrounded him. _A better option would be to fl-_

Pausing his thought, Armsmaster's elbow lashed out behind him, striking a target in the solar plexus. _Melee again? Why are criminals so stupid?_

The thug's eyes widened in anger and rage and he screamed, wielding a blood-splattered machete as he charged forward again.

Armsmaster's response was as swift as it was brutal.

His free hand snapped out, stopping the machete dead with his gauntleted palm. If it was possible, the criminal's eyes widened further. Armsmaster twisted his wrist, forcing the blade to fall from the gangster's grip. Quicker than the ABB member could react, Armsmaster struck at his temple with the solid sound of metal on flesh, letting the criminal fall to the cracked asphalt.

Flipping backwards to avoid a strike to his back, Armsmaster twisted in midair and lashed out with a kick. His armored heel connected with an unprotected skull, knocking out his attacker. Sidestepping a thrown grenade, he slammed the staff of his halberd into an assailant's neck. The thug stumbled back, arms flailing as he gasped for air. A second, vicious strike sent him flailing to the ground with several thousand volts running through him. _A better option_ , he continued his line of thought, _would be to flank them and strike quickly._

Armsmaster threw a punch directly at the next thug even as the tattooed criminal attempted to back away, after seeing how quickly the others were taken down. Even then, the edge of his fist drove into the criminal's ribcage under his right arm. The thug let out a scream of In one movement, Armsmaster grabbed the thug by the arm and yanked harshly. An armored fist met a weak jaw.

Mind made up, Armsmaster ran several steps, hopping on top of a derelict sedan before kicking off the vehicle. Around his thighs, the material of his suit seemed to ripple, bulging for an instant before Armsmaster leapt.

The force from his takeoff sent him hurtling into the air, flying towards and over a small crowd of ABB firing behind cover. He watched their eyes widen as he bounded meters above their heads, their mouths slackening with shock.

Turning in midair, Armsmaster pointed his halberd at the thugs as his suit's function targeted them. Aiming reticles formed over their torsos and he gripped his halberd tighter in response.

* * *

 _14 Targets Confirmed_

* * *

"Darts."

* * *

 _Dart Launcher (Activated)_

* * *

His suit registered the subvocalization and with a pneumatic hiss, small blurs of glinting metal shot from the tip of his halberd. Several sharp cries rang out as sharp needles found purchase in the soft flesh of the gangster's chests.

"Stun." His mouth barely moved again, sensors in his suit interpreting his throat's vibrations instantly.

* * *

 _Stun Function (Activated)_

* * *

Their bodies convulsed and they fell in unison, eyes rolling back into their heads as they collapsed onto the asphalt.

Landing in a crouch, Armsmaster pulled himself up to his full height, head turning to survey the battlefield. ABB lay scattered across the street, all lying on the ground.

Some were bleeding.

Some were unconscious.

Some just didn't want to risk getting hit again.

None were in any condition to fight, Armsmaster knew that much. Quickly running back to his cycle, he swung one foot over the seat, mounting it and sliding his spear into the holster on the side.

"S.I.A., contact BBPD and have them send a van to collect the ABB at my current location," Armsmaster spoke to no one in particular as he sat atop the two-wheeler. "Use code PRT-5119."

 _"Understood, sir,"_ replied a feminine voice from his suit, it's artificial tones made slightly more human due to it's Received Pronunciation accent. _"BBPD will be notified."_

While he held no strong beliefs that the ABB would still be here by the time the police came to collect them, he didn't really care. His priorities right now centered around defending the PRT building, not cleaning up after criminal trash that the police should be able to handle.

"Celeritas."

With his access code uttered and his voice recognized, his ArmsCycle lit up, lines of blue lighting up as they spread out from the center. Armsmaster revved the engine and prepared to drive off when his HUD flashed again.

* * *

 _Warning: Unidentified object approaching location at an average speed of 225 km._

* * *

Armsmaster's head snapped up to face the sky and his eyes widened as he jumped off his bike, halberd already out in front of him to face this new threat.

"WOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

A golden flash lit his vision, prompting his visor to darken instantly to prevent his sight from being hindered. It didn't help much.

The light came falling out of the sky like a meteor, slamming into a charred sedan with the screeching din of buckling metal and shattering glass. The roof crumpled and the wheels exploded outwards, popping out of the tire frame and flying across the street.

As he blinked away the dark spots in his vision, Armsmaster saw him.

Blond hair cut in the messiest high-and-tight he had ever seen, aglow in a halo of golden light.

Bright and eager blue eyes beaming with childish exhilaration.

An idiotic smile across his face, displaying arrogance he had not yet earned.

The raw strength he displayed, peeling himself out of the wreckage of a car as if it barely bothered him. A feat of strength that he would be hard-pressed to pull off even in his new suit just performed so casually…

Armsmaster resisted the urge to scream in sheer frustration, simply gritting his teeth in a disturbing grimace.

It was just so _infuriating._

To see all that power go to waste in someone so… so young, so stupid, so…

 _So undeserving._

As the kid finally extracted himself from the car wreckage and jumped down, he caught sight of Armsmaster.

Childish blue eyes narrowed and his smile vanished, shifting into a bitter scowl.

Greg Veder and Colin Wallis glared at each other as one word left their lips with utter disdain.

" _You."_


	62. Complications 2-21

Complications 2.21

Previously:

 _As the kid finally extracted himself from the car wreckage and jumped down, he caught sight of Armsmaster._

 _Childish blue eyes narrowed and his smile vanished, shifting into a bitter scowl._

 _Greg Veder and Colin Wallis glared at each other as one word left their lips with utter disdain._

" _You."_

* * *

" _You."_

The word fell from Armsmaster's lips, so quickly that he almost didn't notice until he had said it. Even as he spat it out, the word came out as a soft hiss, barely detectable but full of emotion. Twelve days worth of bitterness and resentment forced into one syllable.

Even though Armsmaster knew he couldn't have heard him, the boy's head turned regardless. Blue eyes locked onto him and for a single instant, Armsmaster could see confusion. The sight was somewhat rattling, jarring him enough that he found himself easing out of the combat stance he had instinctively moved into. Standing to his full height, Armsmaster glanced down at the boy, the innocent expression on his face still present as the child stared back.

It was an expression that fit his face, strangely enough. Doe-like eyes wide with shock but tinged with an innocent curiosity that seemed to shave almost three years off his age.

Even confused, the smile remained plastered on his face.

The boy's gaze flickered from Armsmaster's face to his chest, pausing for a moment on the glowing blue "A" on his chestplate. His eyes fell further down, locking on to the blue-plated halberd in Armsmaster's tight grip.

There was an instant of raw shock.

Then, the boy snarled.

" _You."_

Bubbly warmth shifted to an uncomfortable heat in an instant as blue eyes narrowed. Thin arms shifted at his side, corded muscle tensing under pale skin.

"You shot me."

Armsmaster frowned at Superior's tone, a litany of responses passing through his mind. After a moment, he tilted his head, dark visor hiding his expression, and replied with a simple, "Yes."

Eyes flashed a blazing red.

Once. Twice.

"Yes?" The question hung in the air even as the boy continued to glare at the taller, armored parahuman, his teeth grit and mouth open in a snarling grimace.

"You shot me," he repeated, the sentence somewhat questioning this time. Hands curled into fists at the boy's side, body language sending a warning message that Armsmaster's suit picked up on.

Suspected Hostile Parahuman within 6 meters.

 **Identifying Target...**

Accessing PRT Database.

 **Subject: Superior**

Official Classification: Brute 6 (Muscle/Regen), Mover 5 (Run/Hurdle), Blaster 3 (Damage), Thinker 3 (Sense/Combat), Striker 3, Master 1

Pending Classification: Shaker ?

Analysis: A.R.M. Suit Parameters not designed for long-term engagement with **[Subject: Superior]**. Minimize direct confrontation and CQC.

 **ENGAGE WITH CAUTION**

Armsmaster twitched his right eye, sending the text on his HUD away and allowing him to focus on the individual in front of him. Armsmaster tilted his head, his grip tightening on his halberd as he tried to parse the situation. This back-and-forth was not an expected outcome. From the gathered data, he had expected immediate retaliation from the young cape, an outburst similar to the last time that they had encountered each other.

Shaking his head, Armsmaster did his best to gather his thoughts, while activating several of his suit's advanced combat systems in case the boy tried something. Shifting his body slightly, he raised his head and stared down at the younger cape.

"Were you expecting me to say something else?" Armsmaster responded, unsure of how to proceed without risking an outburst. "I was forced to sedate you for your own good."

"My own good?" His response seemed to have caught the boy off-guard as Superior paused, blinking as he stared back at Armsmaster. " _My own good?"_ , he repeated, a giggle bursting from his throat."You shot me for my own … good? Huh," Superior put a hand over his mouth, actually holding back laughter. "Yeah, no … " he snorted, "why don't I believe you?"

The sides of Armsmaster's mouth turned down into a flat scowl. "You were bleeding, suffering from several grievous injuries and delirious enough to attempt to attack a member of the Protectorate for no justifiable reason. If I had not sedated you, I would have been forced to take you down with force."

"Take me down?", Superior scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Sure."

"Yes," Armsmaster snapped in response. "If I hadn't been understanding," he continued, "you would just be another young villain in this city. Judging by your looks, another conscript for the Empire."

The boy winced at Armsmaster's last sentence, something the older cape noted, before taking a deep breath as he clenched his fists.

"If it wasn't for _me_ being there," Superior hissed, taking a strong step forward, "Lung would still be on the streets." He inched closer again, the gravel crackling under his black combat boots as he got that much closer to the silver-and-blue armored figure in front of him.

Armsmaster scowled. "You were fortunate that Lung didn't take you seriously. In any other situation, he would have killed you. Frankly, you should be thanking me for sedating him before he could get back up and finish you off."

"Thanking you? Than..." Superior paused and turned his back to Armsmaster, letting out a powerful sigh as he threw his hands into the air. When he turned to face him again, his angry scowl had gained a hint of _something_.

The teen shook his head slowly before speaking again. "You know what? You're right. I should be thanking you. For letting Lung run around for ten years. It made me look even better when I brought him down in like 15 minutes."

Heart Rate Elevated.

Armsmaster ignored the warning as it crawled past his field of vision, biting back a growl at the boy's words. Armored hands clenched his halberd even tighter. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Superior tilted his head to the side, his scowl rising upwards into a mocking grin. "I think I do."

"No, you clearly don't," Armsmaster snapped in reply. "The fact that you can say that just shows exactly how inexperienced you are. You would be better off with the Wards learning how to actually be a hero." A variation of the usual spiel was his response, as he tried his hardest to ignore the boy's attempts to rile him up.

"Huh." The young cape cocked his head to the side. "I don't think I need experience. Lung was pretty experienced. Didn't really stop _me,_ though," Superior replied, rolling his eyes. "You have a lot of experience too. Still did your job for you."

Armsmaster shook his head, fists clenched. "You didn't d-"

"I think I did," Superior interrupted glibly.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," the boy continued, wide mouth turning up into a wider grin, "your body just can't handle it. You must be like, what, forty? Does it really matter what you can build if you can't fight anymore?"

Heart Rate Elevated.

"I mean, you couldn't beat Lung ten years ago with _help_ ," Superior continued, the teen stepping closer with every word he spoke. "So, I guess it's really not about age, right? Maybe you're just not worth all the hype."

He finished with a smile that was far too wide for his face, his short walk having brought him within arm's reach of Armsmaster. Even as he craned his neck to look up at the much older, taller and far more muscled cape, the expression on his face showed no hesitation.

Heart Rate Elevated.

Armsmaster tilted his head, staring daggers at the boy through his dark visor. "I'm going to assume that you're still recovering from the intense trauma Lung inflicted on you. You're obviously not thinking correctly, otherwise you would recognize what a mistake you're making, speaking to me like that."

"You shot me," Superior replied, a petulant pout replacing his smile for a few moments.

Armsmaster hunched his shoulders, looming over the teenager, and spoke through clenched teeth. " _My actions were justified."_

For a moment, Superior didn't reply, instead taking a step back and wrinkling his nose. Then, the teen opened his mouth. "How does your voice not hurt when you go all growly like that? I mean, you probably go through a ton of cough drops."

Armsmaster heard a low-pitched beeping, the popup at the furthest right corner of his HUD warning him of an incoming call. Pushing down his ever-growing annoyance, Armsmaster lifted a finger to his helmet, tapping the raised section adjacent to his right ear. He turned away, leaving his back to the young cape as he answered the call.

"Yes?" He winced as the word left his lips, his tone far harsher than he had expected.

Instead of the familiar tone of his once second-in-command, Armsmaster flinched as he was met with a barrage of static and white noise.

"Miss Militia? Militia, respond."

Again, nothing but static from his earpiece.

"Mil-"

A flash of light and an explosion of raw, guttural sound cut him off, his visor automatically darkening to shield him from the glare. Armsmaster's hand fell, his eyes widening at the pillar of fire that erupted into the sky. As close to the PRT building as the blast was and as loud as that roar had been, there could only be one explanation. "Lung."

"No way." The voice, somewhat high-pitched but definitely masculine, jolted Armsmaster out of his shock. He whipped around to face the kid, the butt of his halberd carelessly grinding against the road.

Superior's eyes were fixed towards the site of the explosion. A wide grin spread across his face that, like his eyes, bore faint traces of hunger. For an instant, neither of them moved, Armsmaster staring at the teen, and Superior staring off into the distance.

It was surprising how long an instant could stretch.

The asphalt beneath the young cape cratered as he rocketed up into the air, his body on a direct arc to the site of the explosion.

"WOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Holding back curses, Armsmaster leapt onto his motorcycle and sped off towards another fight.

* * *

AN: Wow, I 've been gone for a while. I was low-key surprised that I was serious about the hiatus.

I honestly think I might actually be getting back into writing. To be honest, this chapter was pretty much done two months ago. I just never posted it because I didn't feel like it. I still don't really like it but I wanted to just post something, you know?

Anyway, I guess I'm doing this again.


	63. Complications 2-22A

Complications 2.22A

* * *

The ground shook.

The acrid stench of melting tar filled the air, thick plumes of black smoke clouding the area.

Massive scaled limbs struck the asphalt again, tearing apart the ground beneath its feet as the giant figure rose to full height.

Some ran as the figure tore it's way out of the building that had served as its cage. They shed their assorted weapons as they escaped, excited voices cheering the return of their "Lung."

It paid them no mind, turning to face those who would dare cage the dragon.

Others, dressed in black, chose to face the creature, overturned vehicles acting as their barrier from the red beast.

Flaming eyes, lacking both iris and pupil, narrowed.

"WEAPONS FREE!"

A storm of gunfire unending rang out, the sound itself a barrage of thunder echoing across the empty street.

Bullet after bullet flattened against walls of scarlet flesh, thick hide refusing to give way to simple metal.

Two clawed limbs crashed onto the asphalt again, fire pouring from them. The ground around the creature emanated heat, the blackness beneath the creature beginning to bubble.

Gunfire poured out, the ones wearing black unwilling to give up against the behemoth in front of them. A woman in green leapt out in front and took a shooting stance, the lengthy rifle in her two-handed grip a statement of raw danger.

She fired, a burst of green erupting from the barrel.

Stillness followed her shot as the seemingly unending stream of fire came to an end, the sound of dozens of rifles clicking empty a symphony unto itself.

Dark eyes narrowed, the weapon dissipating into a corona of green and black before solidifying once again in her grip.

She fired again.

Once more, it vanished only to reappear in her hands.

She fired again.

Three shots in half as many seconds.

The street was silent for a scant few moments, the sounds of distant explosions and the breathing of a giant, inhuman _thing_ , all that could be heard.

Three gaping holes, each one far larger than a quarter, dripped red from it's wide chest.

A moment later, the flesh on his chest rippled violently, steam rising off his torso as what should have been a fatal wound healed near instantly.

Orange eyes widened, as if suddenly realizing injury was a possibility. Flesh rippled all over, the mammoth being's size widening just a bit more as his physique adapted to the damage inflicted. Black horns burst from the top of his wide head, lengthening as spikes burst from the tail that drug behind him.

Lung's maw shifted into a brutal grin, exposing jagged teeth flecked with red.

 **"THAT IS THE SECOND TIME TODAY THE PRT HAS TRIED AND FAILED TO KILL ME,"** he rumbled, flames visible from his mouth as he spoke. **"THERE WILL NOT BE A THIRD!"**

Meaty forelimbs dug into the asphalt as Lung hunched over, a plume of flames rising from his back.

Those in black took aim. The woman in green braced herself, an even larger weapon in her hand raised to fire.

The dragon dropped it's head, his curved black horns pointed dirrectly at their makeshift barricade. Letting out a bellow that almost shook the ground, Lung charged forward.

A flash of yellow lit up the smoke-filled sky.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The ground shook.


	64. Complications 2-22B (Part 1 of 2)

Complications 2.22B (Part 1 of 2)

Previously:

 _Those in black took aim. The woman in green braced herself, an even larger weapon in hand._

 _The dragon dropped it's head and charged._

 _"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

 _A flash of yellow lit up the smoke-filled sky._

 _The ground shook._

His body hurtling through the air, Greg Veder screamed his excitement as he caught sight of the massive red visage of Brockton Bay's biggest bad charging down the PRT HQ square. Hulking arms and fists twice the size of a watermelon struck the asphalt, carrying the dragon man forward like a gorilla.

Greg's eyes locked onto the dragon as he turned in midair and angled himself to face the ground. His entire body twisted as he fell further, and he raised a fist. For an instant, there was a flash of yellow.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Glowing knuckles struck red-scaled jaw, the impact of bone on bone a thunderclap.

Lung bellowed in anger and pain as his head snapped back, the sound sending a bolt of raw adrenaline into Greg's veins. Spinning in midair, he brought the same fist down with added momentum, driving it into Lung's snout. Leaping back before the dragon man could retaliate, Greg did his best to ignore the throbbing pain in his right fist. _God, what is he made of? Hurt like a b-_

A giant fist filled his field of vision. He dove out of the way as the asphalt to his right exploded, flame bursting from the ground like a geyser as Lung's arm slammed into it. As fast as he was, Greg wasn't quick enough to avoid the explosion and a scream burst from his lips as the fire burst across his chest. "NO!"

A moment later, the scream shifted to nervous laughter as Greg patted at his chest, the fireproof material both his jacket and shirt were made of easily extinguishing the flames. His eyes widened slightly as he realized that he had barely even felt the heat from the flames too. _I'm fireproof? I'm fire-proof!_ _Fuck, I'm not even hurt!_

 **"DIE!"** Lung's rage-filled scream interrupted his excitement. The scream itself was followed by the roar of flames as a wall of fire rushed at Greg from an outstretched fist.

 _Not if he has anything to say about it, though._ Greg leapt up and over the blast, his body landing on the other side of the fading conflagration just in time to avoid another swing from Lung.

 **"KILLL YOUUUU!"**

"Whatever, Godzilla!" He ducked again, twisting out of the way of a flaming claw swipe. Lung's natural weapons missed again, tearing through the door of a police vehicle. Tearing off the roof of the car with one angry swipe, Lung hurled it at Greg, who simply dodged to the side. "I'll believe it when you can actually hit me!"

Taking advantage of Lung's miss, he closed in on the massive villain, rolling around another angry swing to get even closer. Using the same glowy trick he used on his opening punch, Greg pushed energy into his foot as he rushed forward. As the yellow glow from his right leg grew bright enough to be seen, he lashed out with a powerful kick.

A roundhouse. It wasn't something he actually knew how to do. More like something he had seen in old kung-fu movies and the few anime he had seen from Earth Aleph.

Still, he had to try something.

At the last possible second, Greg twisted, his leg slamming into the side of the red-scaled knee. A shout of excitement burst from his mouth as he felt something _give._

Lung's pained bellow only confirmed his thoughts.

Without hesitation, Greg kicked again, driving his heel directly into the side of Lung's kneecap hard enough for the sole of his boot to puncture Lung's scaled flesh, steaming blood bursting from the sudden penetration. The red-skinned monster roared again as his massive clawed hands scratched at his feet. Jumping back to avoid Lung's pained flailing, Greg couldn't resist a smile.

That smile faded as Lung began to drag his bulk off the ground, his just-shattered leg once again in perfect condition.

 _D-did he just get bigger?_ Somewhere behind him, he could hear gasps that told him that he definitely wasn't the only one seeing this. Steam wafted off Lung's rippling flesh as shimmering scarlet scales jutted into place over blood-red skin. _Holy hamburgers, he's huge._

Greg's jaw dropped as Lung's already massive, gorilla-like arms bulged in size, the sudden shift in mass sinking them deeper into the softening asphalt. A corona of flame burst to life around his shoulders, making the villain look like he was wearing some sort of cape.

 _Okay, okay, okay. No, not okay,_ Greg's breathing began to quicken as he realized this was not going to be as easy as he thought. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping to catch sight of the brigade of PRT he had spotted earlier.

Nothing but an empty, mangled street stared back at him. _Did those guys run and leave me alone? What the..._

A look of rising nervousness appeared on Greg's face. Turning back to Lung's bulging, twitching and _still-growing_ form, he let out a slight whine.

"Where's Armsmaster when you need him?"


	65. Interlude 2p: Evron Grey

Interlude: Evron Grey

* * *

No matter how many times one experienced it, the very idea was strange.

So many Earths, so different on the surface.

Yet, still recognizably Earth.

The same oceans, mountains, deserts.

One could see everything from here.

From above the clouds like this, it could almost allow one to forget just how far away from home they are.

It was comforting.

Beautiful, almost.

Like a marble.

There was a laugh. A cold, yet playful voice. One could recognize it as one's own voice, but one knew better.

"I have to ask, what could one find so precious in a marble in the first place?"

 _Pretty._

"Are they? I think we're the prettiest thing around for light years." Eyes close, ignoring the ethereal feeling of barely-present arms draping themselves over one's body.

"Although I might be biased." The pair of hands on one's chest are quite easy to ignore, the one cupping the genitals less so. The feeling of multiple digits running through one's hair and the ones rubbing one's shoulders are almost pleasant enough for one to disregard the digits playing alongside one's feet.

 _Why?_ one finds himself asking. The earth below looks up, corruption, destruction and pollution of a dying world so clear like this. How easy it would be to save all of them, to ease their suffering. _Why now?_

A flick of the wrist and the mass of a planet would be returned as energy to the one above it all.

"Does it matter?" _he_ whispers back, using one's own voice.

 _Yes,_ one demands, pushing back against the voice. _One needs to focus._

"One needs to focus? Hmm, I think one must to stop referring to oneself as one."

 _Your point?_ Pale eyelids flutter, the thought plucked out of one's head as easily as all the others.

"My point, my dear sweet _Evron,_ is that I'm bored."

Those were the words. The words one always hated to hear.

 _And what would you have this one do?_

One could almost hear the crinkle of a mouth curling upwards.

A lone finger touched this one's forehead, long and slender. "I want you to wake up."

* * *

I burst into consciousness and remained silent, waiting for the feeling of cold skin touching my body to vanish to open my eyes.

It wouldn't take long, the target of my ire eternally aware of my wants and desires.

 _Why?_ It took all I had not to scowl. _Why pull me out? I was in the middle of something._

An ethereal hand continues rustling my hair, a finger tracing the length of my exposed collarbone. I don't dare visibly show that it bothers me.

"Oh, come on," I can see the image of my knowing smile perfectly replicated on his/my face in my mind's eye. His doing or mine, I couldn't care less. "You know how you are when you try to use the little gift I gave you. If I had not shocked you awake, you would have sat here in that half-conscious state for however long it would take for your little pet project to reach maturity. Too long and then we'll have to worry about casual genocide."

I didn't reply, my mind blanking so as not to give him the satisfaction that I agreed with him.

"Do you hate me?" my/his voice spoke to me.

The multiple limbs and digits finally retract – one by one, they peel from my body, slowly trailing over my skin – and I'm left to myself, the voice in my head waiting patiently for me to answer the question.

I open my eyes to glance at the figure in white sitting exactly as I am in front of me, legs crossed over one another, resting on nothing. White hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and all-white clothing.

At one time, I would have confused it with myself, the hair styled exactly the way I did mine and the mouth curved in that same, mocking smile.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. I found the idea ridiculous when I first heard it. Some four-hundred-year-old superstition…

Dwelling on those those blue eyes, a mirror of mine, I see the bare fringes of an eternally playful mind. Someone who could find excitement and joy in anything.

It's one of the few things I find terrifying. Mostly, because I have to keep him/it entertained.

I stare for a few seconds longer.

Then I do what he wants.

 _Yes,_ I finally retort, the monosyllabic word just as cold as if I had spoken it. My mouth doesn't move but speaking is unnecessary, at least to someone who lives in my mind, anyway.

"Oh, how sad." A pale hand rises to its face, cupping a bare chin. "You know, I heard that familiarity breeds contempt but to have such an intense level of self-hatred… I have to say, bravo."

"It takes a very special mind to be both narcissistic and yet bear that much self-hate."

 _I don't hate myself. I hate you._ Again, cold rage is all I can muster. I've spent these last two weeks walking the earth, planting seeds for the future. All of that has allowed me to center myself, to filter out the anger from my mind gain an understanding of my surroundings.

Understanding didn't necessarily mean acceptance.

"How can you hate this face?" It takes all I have not to scowl at those words.

 _My face._ Perpetually pale and sculpted to perfection the way only generations of good breeding and hundreds of millions of credits worth of genetics could create. Was it wrong to be a little resentful that someone could simply copy what I had considered solely mine?

 _Yes._

I blink at the sudden thought before narrowing my eyes into the glare my family had become known for before we became known for… other things.

My face stares back at me innocently, blinking twice as if in confusion. Neither of us need to blink. I perform the action out of habit and to appear relatively normal. He does it to infuriate me.

 _Don't do that._

"Do what?"

 _Do what?_ The thoughts resound in my head, nearly indistinguishable from my own. _What am I talking about?_

 _Stop._ I glare, eyes and palms glowing a cold blue.

"Fine." He rolls my eyes and I watch him recline back on nothing.

I sigh in relief as he speaks out loud, ignoring how he really shouldn't be able to.

"How's your boy, by the way?" He asks.

I shoot myself a glance. _You know._

I/he smirks at myself. "Oh, I do. The thing is, I was asking you."

I sigh, watching the breath from my mouth freeze and drift off for a moment before turning back.

 _He's fine._

"Is that so?" That smirk. I hated that smirk.

 _Yes. Last I saw, he was on house arrest._

"Last you saw. Hmmm."

 _What?_ I thought back, almost bristling with annoyance.

"The last time you checked in on him was… Fifty-six hours ago. I assume."

I chose not to reply. There was no doubt he was right, and I had no idea of what time it was. Such a thing was hard to measure without a terrestrial frame of reference.

"Fifty-six hours ago, on your visit to Russia."

I blink, remembering what he was referring to. _Yes, I was in Yakutia. Your point?_

"Trying to rush the process along to head home and leave your _other_ little project all alone?"

 _He is fine._

"Is he now?"

I lock gazes with him, my blue eyes staring into their twin. _Will you stop that?_

"You're so irritable. What did I do now?"

… _nothing._ I push down the irritation, forcing myself to calm down again. _Greg is fine. His abilities, while not the ones I expected him to get, will keep him safe until he matures fully._

"Safe from bullets, guns and bombs, yes."

I sigh, closing my eyes. There's a lesson here, a lesson I'm going to have to learn before he leaves me alone. _This is a 21_ _st_ _Century Earth. That means a relatively low number of powered individuals, in addition to mostly primitive technology unable to be replicated. Most of those with pitiful abilities in the first place. What's the worst trouble Greg could get himself into?_

There was silence.

Then laughter. It was mine but not. Another perfect imitation from the me that was me, but more than I was. "You underestimate the both of you."

I felt multiple hands resting on the back and sides of my head, slowly turning my gaze to stare down at what I assumed was the Northeast Coast of the United States. My blank expression turned down into a frown. I didn't lift a hand to push his ethereal limbs away.

What would be the point? He's not even physically present.

 _What are you doing?_

"Just relax your thoughts."

 _No._

"Very well." My eyes go blank in a flash of white.

* * *

 _Monster…_

 _Dragon…_

 _Running..._

 _Fists…_

 _Pain…_

 _Fire…_

 _Blood..._

 _Body moved to the side, barely avoiding a giant clawed hand that moved far faster than it should._

 _Red Skin… Scales… Monster._

 _The energy inside bubbled inside, eager to be used._

 _Fists… Feet…_

 _Blurs of golden light…_

 _Red flesh bubbling… Knitting… Healing._

 _Growing._

 _It roared..._

* * *

I snapped back to reality, eyes opening suddenly to see my body again sitting across from me, still staring.

A white eyebrow rose, silently questioning me.

 _So, I underestimated what he would face. He'll be fine, regardless._

"Will he?" That smile again.

 _A complementary power-set like his is rare on this Earth. One with potential for growth? Almost non-existent. As long as he fights smart, there are at most two legitimate threats for him in his city. The rest?_ I turned my nose up at the idea that Greg would even have to spend time taking them out. _Nonentities._

"And I suppose you fought smart when you were his age?"

My fingers twitched in my lap. _I… I see your point. However, it's for the best he learns pain. He needs to suffer._

I frown as Nexus's smile stretches upwards, his head angling to glance back down towards Greg's city before languidly rising.

 _I'm not going to leave and come back to find out I've created another_ _ **me**_ _._ My frown shifts into a scowl. _Not again. I'm not going to make it easy for him._

"I didn't expect you to."

I shot him a suspicious look, receiving another innocent smile in response. _Alright then. What I planned to do was give him acquaintances, teammates who would handle the weaker opponents while also keeping Greg in check._

"Trying to recreate the dynamic of your own team? Bold move."

 _It's worked before,_ I snapped defensively.

"I don't recall saying it hasn't."

 _The implication was there._

"And it's there for good reason. Your team is made up of your wife, three of your lifelong best friends, your sister, your best friend's sister, and the sapient Artificial Intelligence you wore on your wrist until you were 17 years old. Do you see my point?"

My eyes narrowed. _I'll build a team for him. It will work._

"Again, I'm not saying it won't. After all, you already have the first member picked out."

I nodded. _Axel Santos Ramos. Age 15. Electrokinesis, enhanced speed, and self-healing with minor augmented durability and strength._

"One of ours." I knew he could feel the kid now, somewhere down there, body shining with the energy that originated from the me across from me.

 _One of_ _ **mine,**_ _yes,_ I replied, my mental voice ringing with a hint of possesiveness. _I gave Greg a few crystals. His friend got a hold of one somehow and got himself electrocuted. Resulting seizure and cardiac arrest was enough for the crystal to fragment and bond with him._

"And the other?"

 _Some druggie I awakened. I needed a working Brain-type to build some stuff for me. I didn't bother making the crystal physically enhance him… much._ I brush white hair out of my eyes before continuing. _His physique's a wreck and it'll be a miracle for him to make it past his fortieth birthday without serious gene therapy. I can't be bothered to help, at least unless I'm sure he's worth my time._

"Devious."

I stifle a laugh at the idea of him calling me devious. Although, he's hardly what I'd call devious.

 _Hardly. Added incentive for him to start building what I want, is all._

I watched him nod slowly, a smile growing on that face. "I assume that means you've already started preparations to get home."

 _...yes._ It was hard, forcing myself not to think of angry retorts. Yet, somehow, I accomplished it. Far more clear-headed than I was when I first arrived, I had long realized I couldn't afford to have him annoyed at me. My little walkabout had helped, as well. Traipsing off to every little corner of this planet and planting Zirin crystals all for some grander purpose of his, and my ticket home without dooming the existence of everyone who lived here.

Each and every seed planted in a major part of the world, places where people flocked to, as well as places untouched. The most populated cities, the deepest parts of the oceans and the highest peaks. Hundreds of thousands of crystals scattered beneath the surface.

I glanced at Nexus and flashed him a smile.

It was mostly forced, but I doubt either of us cared at this point.

I glanced down at the earth below the both of us, this radically different earth.

Each crystalline seed on it one step closer to getting me _home._

* * *

A/N: _A bit confusing but it'll make sense in a little while._

 _I've been writing this thing for a while and I haven't even gotten to the good parts._

 _Part 1 of this fic ends in like three chapters, by the way._

 _I would really like it if you guys would review. I've been working on this for a while and without reviews, it just feels dull._


	66. Interlude 2q: Susan Veder

Interlude: Susan Veder

Susan stared at the device protruding from the older woman's uncovered stomach, the purple glow forcing her to blink.

A look crossed her face. Whether it was confusion or shock, she didn't quite know herself.

Regardless, the sight was just another shock on top of a mountain of them.

It had been less than a minute ago when she heard the news.

She had just finished bandaging the wounds of a little girl, one who had apparently lost both her parents to some sort of glass bomb, when the officer approached. He was young, in his early twenties, and a bit shaky. Susan could only think to herself that he looked rather out of place in the intimidating ensemble that served as the PRT uniform.

All that had been driven out of her mind as the officer calmly told her that her son was reported to be Downtown, attempting to hold off Lung until the Protectorate could make their way to him.

At first, Susan had said nothing. She almost wanted to reply that her son was grounded, that he wouldn't be there, he _couldn't_ be there. The idea that Greg could be out there had been running through her mind. The officer had only just confirmed her fears.

Susan had been watching the news already. It was hard not to catch at least glimpses of what was going on outside the walls of Brockton Bay Central with all the televisions playing the news. The reports had at least one of the Wards gravely injured while another was within the vicinity of the PRT building, a Protectorate member suspected to be trapped underneath rubble and another one possibly mortally injured.

Worst of all, Lung was reportedly free again. Susan had almost found herself praying at that news, desperately hoping that her son wouldn't wade into the violence again.

She hadn't been to church in her life. Who would she pray to?

God? Buddha? Scion?

She didn't even know.

With the confirmation that her baby was out there, it had all been too much. It had taken all she had not to fall to her knees, the recently-orphaned child in her arms the only reason she was still standing.

One of the patients waiting in the crowded emergency room, an older Chinese woman covered in a heavy shawl, had made her way over to Susan as the blonde tried her best not to cry. The hug had surprised her, but Susan had been thankful for it, nonetheless

It was when she pulled away from the embrace that she suspected something.

The shorter woman held her forearm in a vice grip, unwilling to let her go.

"Wh-what are you…" Susan's voice trailed off as the strange woman gestured down, lifting her shawl from her chest. For one long moment, Susan gazed into the watery eyes of the Chinese woman before her eyes fell to the quietly beeping device crudely stitched onto her stomach.

The officer who had delivered the news spotted the device as well, and had already pulled his pistol. Hand shaking, he screamed for everyone to run, voice tinged with fear as he screamed the threat of the bomb.

His voice was like a gunshot, comparable in its ability to spread fear. The entire emergency room - nurses, orderlies and patients - dissolved into chaos, people running over each other to escape possible injury.

Police officers, SWAT, PRT. They all flooded into the waiting room, guns raised, barking orders.

In Susan's arms, the little girl began to cry. Susan found herself barely holding back tears herself.

The woman joined in, fat tears rolling down her face. Still, she didn't lessen her grip on Susan's arm, fingernails clenched so tightly they were nearly drawing blood.

The PRT officer closest - the young man - , his weapon raised in a shaky hand, demanded the woman back away.

The squad of police shouted orders.

The mob of patients screamed their fears.

The child in her arms wailed.

There was a flash of purple.

Silence.


	67. Complications 2-22B

Complications 2.22B (Part 2 of 2)

* * *

Previously on Rise of Titan:

' _Okay, okay, okay. No, not okay,' Greg's breathing began to quicken as he realized this was not going to be as easy as he thought. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping to catch sight of the brigade of PRT he had spotted earlier._

 _Nothing but an empty, mangled street stared back at him. 'Did those guys run and leave me alone? What the…'_

 _A look of rising nervousness appeared on Greg's face. Turning back to Lung's bulging, twitching and still-growing form, he let out a slight whine._

 _Where's Armsmaster when you need him?"_

* * *

Armsmaster spun, rising from his crouched stance in one smooth movement. His halberd extended in his grip, the silver and blue staff growing by a foot in the blink of an eye.

His opponent, Brockton Bay's silent assassin, blocked the sudden attack with both swords crossed over his chest.

Armsmaster whirled around, ignoring his blade as it slashed open the neck of the already-dissolving clone in front of him, and slammed the butt of his weapon into the mask of another clone before it could pull the pin off a grenade. His suit and visor were covered in soot and dirt, the asphalt around him pockmarked by craters, while his customized motorcycle lay in pieces just a few meters away on the sidewalk. Half of it lay crumpled against a brick wall, years of work destroyed by simple grenades.

The E88 had chosen to jump into the fray against the rampaging ABB, the neo-Nazi gang choosing now of all times to strip the ABB of what power, wealth and land they held.

The ABB hadn't taken kindly to that. Tinker bombs had gone off at several E88 hotspots, the retaliation wave of the ABB as quick as it was ruthless. Multiple Protectorate capes had been drawn into the fight nearest their location, forced to ward off the fight from the civilians rather than head to the primary target downtown. Armsmaster scowled at the thought of their only real defense being an unaffiliated teen with a skillset solely geared towards driving him up a wall.

Explosions, roars and gouts of flames were both visible and audible just a few blocks away, no doubt Lung and the other little monster himself going at it. Armsmaster did his best to ignore it, especially the other explosions still going on all over the city, the destruction only serving as a distraction from the now. No capes were free to protect the PRT, sans Miss Militia and possibly one other Ward, from the reports he had received. Surprisingly, the Merchants had stayed quiet throughout the whole situation, as far as he was aware at least. Even though it was not like him, all he could do was hope for the best.

The visor flared a warning, a red reticle flashing across several rooftops searching for a viable target. Brown eyes shifted from side-to-side, watching the rooftops, waiting for Oni Lee to appear again.

His HUD flared red, a warning to move.

He did, jerking harshly to his right.

Armsmaster's head twisted to the side, avoiding a short sword aimed at his neck and turned the weapon away with a gauntleted wrist, a glowing red blade erupting from his own protective gauntlet. The second weapon scraped off his breastplate, trailing sparks as it tried to find purchase against nano-material, a futile attempt. A tap to his halberd caused the bladed tip to flare a bright red, matching the gauntlet blade on Armsmaster's left wrist.

Plasma cutter met cloth and skin.

A moment later, both weapons burst into dust with their wielder. Without even a moment's pause, three more duplicates took his place, each a few meters behind the other.

One with knives in his hands. The other two, grenades.

 _Perfect._ Armsmaster grimaced.

Oni Lee was a terror to fight under any circumstances.

As a cape, he had speed, numbers, and raw skill.

But, like anyone else, he had flaws, he had weaknesses, he had emotions.

Most importantly, he had patterns.

Armsmaster could beat patterns.

Armsmaster jumped to the side, avoiding a lunge from the knife-wielding Lee as the others rushed forward to meet him.

"Augment: 50% power to physical." His suit processed the command instantly, the nanomaterial in the suit slightly constricting his muscles.

Armsmaster rushed forward, weapons ready to engage the clones, his suit propelling him forward at highway speeds. In the blink of an eyes, he delivered a front kick to the armed clone in front of him, the suit-enhanced strike sending the knife-wielding killer tumbling down the empty side street. The next exploded into dust as red plasma rent through its torso and the other vanished just as quickly as Armsmaster's gauntlet blade plunged through its skull.

Armsmaster paused for a moment, breathing heavily as his suit relaxed its tight grip on his body. Once again, he stood alone, eyes searching for the real Lee. Before he could catch his breath, six different Oni Lee's popped into existence around him, primed grenades in each hand.

Armsmaster's eyes widened as his HUD flared red, warnings flashing a moment too late.

Grenade pins hit the floor.

A blinding flash of blue lit up the deserted street.

* * *

 _Halbeard's probably gonna swoop in at the last moment and take MY credit._ Greg scowled, still staring uneasily at Lung's new, far more reptilian form. His gaze rose to meet the fire-pits resting in Lung's skull and as they locked eyes, Greg forced himself not to take another step back. _Not today, Beardmaster._

"'What's up, Big Red?" Greg snarked at the Asian villain, confidence rapidly fading as he watched Lung's nostrils literally breathe fire.

In response, Lung roared like the beast he appeared to be and slammed his forelimbs into the ground, sending slight tremors through the street.

"What's that? You wanna go another round?" Greg dropped into a boxing stance, raising his bare, soot-covered fists in front of his face. "Bring it!"

Without hesitation, Lung launched himself at the young hero, massive arms curling inwards as he pounced.

 _I should probably stop talking._

" **DIE!"**

 _Holy s-_

Greg made a diving jump to his left, barely avoiding an angry swipe as he ducked past Lung.

Another large red object swung to meet him at the apex of his leap.

Greg's eyes widened. _I forgot he had a tail._

Lung's monstrous tail twisted like a snake and swung at him. Blue eyes widened in pain as the back of Lung's spiked tail struck his torso. The hit lifted him up for an instant, then he flew, tumbling backward like a piece of trash in the wind. He hit the pavement and skid, only to let out a slow moan as he came to a stop. "Owwwwwww."

One hand gripping his aching chest, Greg jumped to his feet in time to see Lung already leaping toward him.

Adrenaline rushed through Greg's bloodstream and he acted instinctively, dropping to a forward roll and allowing Lung's bulk to pass overhead. _Oh, he's kinda like a Demon's Souls boss,_ Greg mused, eyes tracking Lung's position as he caught his palms on the asphalt. He let out a slow hiss as his skinned palms caught on the rough road material but jumped up regardless, ignoring the tearing skin as he turned to face Lung.

The red-scaled behemoth landed only a few meters away with the force of a small earthquake, forcing Greg to scramble to his feet again as he nearly lost his balance. _Only real, angry and on fire._

"You know what, Lung?" Greg called out, leaping back into the air to avoid Lung's savage clawing. "You need a nickname. Lung's getting kinda old and it's kinda a stupid name, you know?"

Lung hot on his tail, Greg kept leaping back, leading the villain away from the heart of Downtown. "Like, ' _I am Lung, fear me'_ isn't exactly all that intimidating. Well, if you weren't a giant dragon man, it wouldn't be. Amirite, big guy?"

Lung roared what might have been words.

"Rawr Rawr to you too, buddy. Seriously, though, how abo- shit!" Razor-sharp claws, each the size of his forearm, swung past his head. Letting out a surprised yelp, Greg jumped to the right before it landed. "How about Shenron for a name?"

The clawed limb struck the ground, sending cracked asphalt flying. Lung rushed forward, flaming claws determined to rip the annoying young cape to bloody pieces.

"Who doesn't like Dragon Ball, man? It's Japanese culture! What kind of normie bullshit are you on?" Dancing around repeated swipes, Greg flipped back to avoid an explosion of flames and shot Lung a grin. "What about Volvagia?"

Lung howled in rage. "Ocarina of Time, 1998? Come on."

Sliding around another attempt at impalement, Greg spun on his heel and shot a ball of light from his palm. Lung howled with anger as it exploded against his torso, scarring red skin black. _Take that!_

Not even taking his eyes off Greg for a moment as he charged forward, Lung raised jet-black claws to his own chest, his beefy arm struggling to make the movement. With a roar and the sound of tearing flesh, Lung ripped away the burnt skin. The revealed muscle and flesh bubbled and roiled, healing over with fresh scale before Greg could even blink.

 _C'mon. That's just cheating._ Greg gaped as he somersaulted through the air, narrowly avoiding another swipe from Lung. "Not a Zelda fan, huh? Did you even like Japan? Is that why you moved to the US? Yellow on the outside, white on the inside?"

Greg's eyes narrowed as he spotted several dilapidated buildings in front of their path as the side street came to an end, and he let out a grin as he realized where they were. Glancing back at Lung, he let out another parting shot of golden light before leaping into the air. "I'd call you a banana, but I feel like that'd be super racist, you know?"

Alighting upon a partially damaged rooftop and thrust his fists forward. As if throwing a hail of punches, he pumped his arms back and forth and blasts flew from each one, peppering Lung with weaker bolts of energy. "But about the name change, Spyro? Falkor? Any of these working for you?"

Each bolt struck the asphalt with enough force to pockmark it, tearing up Lung's scales as well as the ground around him like a Gatling gun. Greg knew Lung could feel it, the roaring and covering of his eyes enough evidence for him.

"I know! Trogdor the Burninator!"

In response, Lung roared, leaping into the air as he sent his own barrage of flames toward him. The second he landed on the already crumbling roof, it began to give way, forcing Lung to scramble to stay on top of it.

Greg couldn't hold back a snicker. The situation would be far funnier if it wasn't so real.

Keeping on the move, Greg jumped back, his palm glowing with unreleased energy. A larger ball of energy burst from his hand, exploding against Lung's jaw. "H.R. Pufnstuf!"

Leaping off the roof as Lung brought the condemned building crashing down, Greg slammed into the concrete sidewalk on all fours, landing with enough force to leave a crater around him. He didn't need to look behind him to know that Lung was already tearing his way out of the rubble, the sound of roaring and angry stomping his only clue.

Scrambling to his feet, Greg grinned as he glanced back at Lung.

Taking a few steps to build up speed again, Greg leapt up to another rooftop, landing firmly just as Lung burst out of the fallen building. The massive dragon rose into the air, several thick plumes of fire shooting out from his back.

Instead of landing, Lung bobbed in the air, the jets of flame emanating from him somehow keeping him aloft.

Greg blanched, blood draining from his face. _Fuck._

Lung roared, and the plumes spiked in both size and intensity, becoming indistinguishable from rockets as they blasted the massive beast-man through the air.

Directly towards Greg.

Slamming into the building with the force of a bomb, the force of the blastwave sent Greg flying. Flailing uncontrollably as he fell, Greg slammed into the street, rolling until he came to a stop facedown. "Someone kill me."

Lung threw back his head and bellowed as he exploded again, the air shaking with the force of his lungs as he burst from the building.

"I wasn't talking to you," Greg muttered, scrambling to his feet. "It was a rhetorical statement. That's a thing, right?"

The vents on Lung's back opened again with the nauseating sound of flesh ripping apart and a loud hiss of steam. Lung then charged, tearing across the ground like a rocket.

"Motherf-" Cutting the curse off with an exasperated growl, Greg jumped up and dashed towards the villain already blasting towards him.

 _Come on, get closer. Get closer… closer…_

 _NOW!_ A few yards from Lung, Greg kicked off the ground in a spray of powdered asphalt.

Somersaulting through the air, he landed flat on his stomach on Lung's face, his hands holding tightly even as the villain roared and tried to shake him off. "Hey, how do you like Charizard as a name? Nah, can't really call you that. Wings aren't really… your thing… anymore."

The last part was said with some nervous laughter, considering Lung was already capable of some sort of flight. "C'mon, b-bud. There's gotta be one name you like. Work with me here."

 _This was a terrible idea._ Shaking away his own doubt, Greg slammed a fist between Lung's eyes as the fingers on his other hand lanced into the flesh underneath his eye, fingers digging into flesh and scale. Lung reared his head back as he screamed, a gout of flame from his nostrils searing Greg's shoes.

"My boots!" Letting out his own scream of rage, Greg pulled himself up, climbing Lung's head like a mountain. "Do you know how expensive Kevlar boots are?" Greg shouted in Lung's eye, his knee striking his snout with each word. "Like six hundred dollars online! Th-these were a gift!"

" **DIE!"**

"You first, Dragon Tales!"

" **KUHLL HYOUU."**

"Who the hell is Hugh?" Greg punctuated the last word with a glowing fist to Lung's snout, a grin forming on his face as the savage straight sent blood and teeth flying from the villain's maw. "And what's a cull?"

" **AHLLL EAT HYOU, BOYH!"**

"Again, who is this Hugh? If you're referring to me, though, I've been told that I'm gross and… ugh… tough to deal with and disgusting. Not a good snack at all." This close to Lung's face, he could actually see his teeth, the knife-sized, razor-sharp fangs tinged with red and flecks of gore. _Oh god, did he actually eat people?_ Greg's insides gave an uneasy shudder, but pushed down the nausea.

"Back to the name thing. What's the opinion on Puff the Magic Dragon?"

Lung bellowed, explosions of fire arcing off his body in a solid sphere of flame, forcing Greg to tighten his grip as he hit Lung. "Not a fan of The Beatles, huh? Fair enough. Kinda overrated, I guess."

"I know. Mushu!" Fists still pounding against Lung's head, Greg dug his fingers into the softer parts of his skull. Tearing apart leathery red flesh to use as a handhold, he pulled himself up to sit on Lung's neck, grabbing hold of one of Lung's thick black horns to keep himself from falling. "You know? From Mulan? Tiny red dragon? Voiced by Eddie Murphy? Classic Disney movie? Swift as a roaring river, all the strength of a great typhoon? No dice?"

Lung roared bloody murder and slammed his head into the side of a locked-down convenience store, trying to shake Greg off. Greg did his best to ignore it, even as bricks and mortar fell over him, nearly making him lose his grip.

"Wait, would calling you Mushu be racist?" Blood poured down Lung's head, the red liquid steaming as it hit open air, but Greg didn't let up as he tore and punched even more to keep it flowing. "You know, 'cause Mulan was Chinese and you're Japanese so… Although Mushu was voiced by a black guy, too so…"

As the villain bucked and thrashed, jumping into the air and landing with tremendous force, Greg held on. Massive arms still unable to reach Greg from his perch behind his neck, Lung's back flared with coronas of flame. Even that wasn't enough to shake the young cape, the experience like sitting in a hot bath for him. Flames licked at his body, his clothes threatening to burn but the durable material held strong, somehow.

Greg wrapped his legs around Lung's neck, as tight as he could manage to not get bucked off, his position perfectly placing him to rain down punches to the villain's skull. "You know, if you said something back, I'd probably stop, big guy."

As he struck Lung, he thought about using a high-powered blast this close to Lung's brain but blanched as he remembered how easily those cleaved through steel. He didn't really want to kill Lung, after all.

Not that the dragon man was making it easy _not_ to. Lung's roaring, thrashing, clawing and _very_ frequent explosions of fire were making it extremely hard not to just blast his skull into multiple fragments.

As Lung reared back on his hind limbs like a bucking bronco, Greg decided to increase the force of his blows.

"YOU."

Punch.

"NEED."

Punch.

"TO."

Punch.

"CHILL."

Punch-Punch-Punch-Punch- **PUNCH.**

"You like that, Lung?" Greg shouted, bringing down another glowing strike on the bucking villain's cranium in another dose of concussive therapy. "You ready to lose? Ready to lose to a kid _again,_ you big, fat, stupid, l- _AAAAAAAAAAAAH_ "

Rather than respond, Lung jumped again. With Greg still holding tight to his back, Lung's jump carried him multiple stories into the air, enough for Greg to realize that he had never been quite this high before.

With more control than Greg expected for Lung at this size, especially without wings, the behemoth turned himself over. Greg's eyes widened as Lung angled his back to the ground as they rose, the two of them already much higher than the tallest skyscraper in the city.

The sound of flesh tearing caught Greg's attention and he heard that same rush of hissing steam. He glanced back to see the vent-like protrusions on Lung's back still closed. _Where the hell is that coming fro-_

A small gout of flame burst from Lung's chest, followed by three more in quick succession.

Greg's eyes wided. _No. No. Nonononononono._

Jets of fire burst to life from Lung's chest as it faced the sky, creating a beacon of flame that lit up the skyline.

" _FUUUUUUUU-!"_

 _No, not this way!_ Greg let go of the massive body, jumping off Lung's neck and twisting in midair to face him. In his hands, he held a dense ball of golden energy, the sphere glowing with the force of a small sun.

Lung turned in midair, his gaze locking on the ball of energy in Greg's clutches. Flaming eyes narrowed and he roared a focused jet of fire. In the same moment, Greg did the same, screaming as the ball shot from his cupped palms, expanding as it flew.

Gold met orange in a thunderous explosion of heat, light and force, lighting up the sky as the shockwave sent the two flying apart towards the unforgiving ground.

Lung's impact was an earthquake, shaking the ground, shattering windows for nearly a block around and creating a crater in the middle of the commercial District. Spurting fire hydrants and burst water lines erupted from the cracked ground, filling the street with water and putting out several fires that threatened to spread. Several utility poles lay on the ground, electrical wires whipping around trailing sparks alongside the streets so dangerously close to the water.

For a moment, the street was filled with nothing but the sound of car alarms, crackling flames and gushing water.

Then, a gasp.

* * *

Waking up hurt.

Not enough to scream or cry but it was there, present in his mind. Just an overbearing general feeling of _pain_ in every part of his body.

Like being wrapped in a blanket made of spikes.

That was the general feeling Greg Veder experienced as he came to, his body lying next to a minivan.

Greg blinked, coughing out a mass of white dust as he tried to get his bearings. _Wha-_

The world slowly came into focus, the sudden clarity made depressing by the fact that Greg realized his entire body felt like it was made of lead. He coughed again, the action bringing up a hunk of blood and mucus from his throat.

Too weak to wipe his mouth, Greg simply pushed the disgusting mass out with his tongue, watching it fall to the floor. _What happened?_

His head spun. _We were falling, Me and Lung. I blasted him. He blasted me and then…_

Greg blinked again, shuddering as he remembered the explosion. _That must have been a big one._

He glanced up, just now noticing the object behind him. A gray minivan – once possibly brand new – completely totaled with its right side caved in, the imprint in the side of the van looking suspiciously similar to the size and shape of his own body.

Blinking in surprise, Greg out a choked laugh. _It's like a cartoon._

Still chuckling softly, he glanced down at his palms, just now noticing the residual golden light still shining off them. Each hand and wrist were covered in cuts, bruises and slowly healing wounds, each one its own fresh source of pain. A palm went to his face, only to be pulled away quickly as Greg let out a pained hiss. His eye was swollen, terribly so, and dripping with blood from what he could see on his hand.

He could feel the cuts and scratches all over his face and from what he could tell, his jaw was swollen. His jacket had gone missing at some point during his fall, allowing him to note all the wounds and bruises he had gained since this stupid fight started. Still unable to move his legs, his body too weak to respond, Greg did his best to straighten his back, letting out a groan as his spine popped painfully.

Even his clothes – as tough as Greg thought they were – had been covered in dust, caked with blood and just shorn to pieces in multiple places, the material unable to stand up against the sheer punishment Lung could inflict. _That's two costumes gone in a month._

Dazed and struggling to think, Greg's dreary eyes roamed the damaged streets of the run-down Commercial District searching for the villain. A moment later, his gaze landed on his target, almost half a block away, and his jaw dropped as he took in his handiwork.

Lung, body half-submerged in water, floated in the middle of crater in an empty parking lot. Other than the water itself, there was no sign of movement from the red-scaled behemoth.

 _I did it! I did it!_ Greg felt like jumping up and cheering but he understood he couldn't exactly pull that off right now, his body still far too drained. That much energy in that last blast, he hadn't…

He had never...

 _I haven't used that much at once before._ While he still had a good amount of gas left in his tank from what he could tell, the rest of him felt like he was running on empty as his body tried to recover from the sudden drain. Coughing, he pulled himself up to his knees, his body protesting his movement.

He coughed again. _Come on, come on. Get up._

Greg panted, teeth gritted as he tried to pull himself to a standing position only to find himself on his knees again. His legs were still recovering, no doubt about it. Greg could feel the energy slowly enter them, his legs slowly recovering feeling into them.

A sound caught his ears, distracting him from trying to get his legs working again.

The sound of low rumbling.

A familiar sound.

Greg's eyes widened as he turned to face Lung's no-longer-still body, the villain beginning to move as the water around him rose to a boil.

 _Oh, god. Oh, god, No. Please, no. Please._

His pleading made no difference.

Lung's bulky form began to rise, his skin already beginning to roil and bubble over as fresh scale covered Lung's wounds. Greg slapped his stinging palm against the ground, all he could do as Lung rose to his feet, already a good two feet taller.

 _This isn't fair. This isn't fair. I did everything I could._ Angry tears began to distort his vision as Greg knelt on the ground. Even then, the sight of Lung's corona was still visible, the tower of flame three times the size of the villain himself.

Eyes the size of dinner plates turned to face Greg's trembling form, droplets of fire falling like tears from the flaming depths. Jet-black spikes burst from new openings, wreathing Lung's face like a demonic crown.

The villain rose to his full height, picking himself off the ground and standing on his hind legs. His tail had shrunk and the horns resting on to had grown, while his scales had taken on a thicker look, staining his body a deeper red. What all that meant, Greg had no idea.

Looking more like the picture of the devil himself than a dragon, Lung bellowed his anger to the world, slamming a fist into his massive chest.

Greg let out a choked breath, fists clenched as he begged his body to _hurry up,_ to let him move. _I JUST NEED A BIT MORE TIME! COME ON! MOVE!_

Even from nearly a block away, Greg could hear the tearing, the sound of flesh splitting apart. The whistle of steam came a moment later, the sound itself like a shrill scream.

Lung's back exploded into flame, evaporating the newly-made pond he stood in, creating even more steam around him.

 _Move, come on!_ Greg screamed at himself as he tried to push himself to his feet, voice too choked up to vocalize. His lower body still essentially paralyzed, Greg was forced to drag himself backwards, hands clawing desperately at the ground as he scrambled to get away. _Damn it. Just get up!_

With a scream of rage and a roar of fire, Lung charged.

* * *

 _A/N: Next chapter will probably be out tomorrow. Or within two days. I'm trying to get all of Part 1 finished and posted before January starts so that's good news for you. Also, yeah, if you weren't aware, there's multiple parts to this fic. This was Part 1. I 've already finished outlining most of Part 2 so I'll probably get started on that soon. There will be a series of interludes between Part 1 and 2, though. As always, thanks for reading._


	68. Complications 2-23

Complications 2.23

* * *

Previously on Rise of Titan:

 _Greg let out a choked breath, fists clenched as he begged his body to hurry up, to let him move. 'I JUST NEED A BIT MORE TIME! COME ON! MOVE!'_

 _Even from nearly a block away, Greg could hear the tearing, the sound of flesh splitting apart. The whistle of steam came a moment later, the sound itself like a shrill scream._

 _Lung's back exploded into flame, evaporating the newly-made pond he stood in, creating even more steam around him._

' _Move, come on!' Greg screamed at himself as he tried to push himself to his feet, voice too choked up to vocalize. His lower body still essentially paralyzed, Greg was forced to drag himself backwards, hands clawing desperately at the ground as he scrambled to get away. 'Damn it. Just get up!'_

 _With a scream of rage and a roar of fire, Lung charged._

* * *

The ground trembled as the draconic villain exploded across the ground, the jets of flame shooting from his back leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His muscles rippled, rope-like veins bulging around his face as Lung roared his anger.

The young cape fought down a whimper, his legs trembling as he scrambled backwards using his arms, the barest tingle of feeling coming back to his lower body. At least now. he could move his legs.

It wasn't soon enough.

The dragon lunged, falling to all fours for one instant only to pounce into the air, both massive spiked arms reaching out to impale.

Greg raised his arms over his head and grit his teeth as he waited for Lung's claws to meet him.

Then there was blue.

Greg's eyes widened, time almost standing still as arcs of blue spiked through the air. Right in front of his eyes, what looked like a missile formed from raw electricity crashed into Lung's chest in a shocking display of power.

The sound of broken bone rang through the air as the missile exploded, the shell containing the electricity itself shattering on contact with Lung's scales and becoming a sheer wall of energy.

Greg blinked, and Lung's massive body went flying to the side, his humongous limbs twitching as he slammed _into_ a building halfway down the block, leaving only a giant hole in the wall to mark his existence. _What?_

"Need a hand?"

As soon as Greg heard the familiar voice, a pair of arms hooked themselves under his shoulders and pulled him to his feet in one smooth movement.

His lower body still lacking some feeling, Greg stumbled slightly before turning around only for his eyes to widen further. The figure in front of him was dressed in blue and white from head to toe, including motorcycle helmet, gloves and boots.

Greg blinked, confusion crossing his face for a moment. "Sparky?"

The person in question lifted a hand give Greg a thumbs-up. "You know it."

"You did… that?" Greg's head swiveled back and forth between his friend and the hole in the wall that marked Lung's entrance.

"Yeah, that was me," Sparky replied with a chuckle. "I call that the Overcharge Burst. Just made the name up, too. If that was Lung, and I'm like pretty sure it is, he's gonna be real fucked up."

"Okay…" Greg replied, blinking in confusion as he tried to come to terms with everything that just happened. "Where… where were you? This whole time, I've been fighting alone. Like, I could have used a hand. Where'd you go and…" Greg gave his friend a once-over, a confused expression on his face, "what are you wearing?"

"Uhhh, well, I kinda ran into some trouble, pun intended. huh." Sparky lifted the visor of his motorcycle helmet to give Greg a wink. "Then I kinda got my clothes ripped, broke my phone, and ruined my shoes. And then, I had to get a new all of the above and a motorcycle place was close. So, I looted it."

Greg frowned. "What?"

"Brah, did you want me to fight bad guys naked? Less than two evils," Sparky replied, justifying his actions with a shrug.

 _Lesser of._ Greg shook away the mental correction, fixing Sparky with a glare. "Fine, okay. I get it."

"I figured you'd be cool with it," Sparky said with a nod. "Anyway, I got the threads. Motorcycle helmet, jacket, pants, gloves, boots, and all in my color. So, then, I headed down to the PRT HQ, but then I saw Oni Lee about to straight murder Beardmaster. So, I got the jump on him, shocked him up good, tied him up to a pole and duct-taped his eyeholes. Then I followed the trail of destruction to find Lung about to straight murder _you._ "

"Wow, you saved Armsmaster and beat Oni Lee?" Greg raised his eyebrows. _That's insane._

"Did I stutter?"

"No, it's just... That's…" Greg shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief. "That's actually a good reason."

"You know me, G. I don't fuck around. I get shit done," Sparky said with a smirk.

"That's a _huge_ lie but I'll ignore it." Greg replied, taking in a deep breath before glancing down the street again. "We're together now. Doesn't matter. Let's brainstorm."

Sparky blinked, taking a step back. "Brainstorm what?"

Greg turned toward him disbelievingly. "Our plan."

"Plan?" Sparky leaned forward, his helmet nearly brushing Lung's face. "Plan what? I thought the plan was run?"

"Did you say run?" Greg glanced back at the hole in the wall that Lung had been blasted through in case the villain began to recover from Sparky's "Overcharge Burst". "No."

"No?"

"No, I'm not running," Greg replied, shaking his head. Dust and soot fell from his hair as he furiously shook his head no, further staining his face black. "Lung's gonna get up. I gotta make sure he stays down. Don't you wanna be my backup?"

"Brah, are you nuts?" Sparky hissed. "Are you trying to die right now? Let's just run."

"No, I can do this. I can finish this." Fists clenched tightly, Greg stared defiantly into his friend's visor.

"This isn't a game, brah." Sparky grimaced even as his friend's expression became only more determined at his words.

"Sparky, you gotta trust me. I'm gonna win this."

"You're gonna lose!" Sparky shouted, eyes wide as he stared unbelievingly at his best friend. "Your life, as in Lung was about to kill you before I showed up!"

"Sparky, just… Just let me do this."

"Are you fucking ins-" His best friend stared at Greg for a few seconds before letting out a choked scream, throwing his gloved hands in the air. " _Fuck!_ I swear to God, you're trying to get yourself killed, you stupid white boy. Hookwolf almost killed _me_ and you're gonna fight Lung?"

"I beat him befor-" Greg started, only for Sparky to cut him off.

"People beat cancer before, Greg. You think they're retarded enough to wanna do it again?" Sparky slapped a hand to his face, muttering various insults in Spanish under his breath before finally letting out a "Fucking hell, G."

"So…" Greg blinked, still waiting for an answer, "are we doing this?"

"Son of a _bitch,"_ Sparky hissed. With a sigh, he lifted his helmet off his head, letting his dark brown hair fall free. "Fine, do whatever the fuck you want. Fight a regenerating dragon-man. I'll back your stupid ass up."

Greg flashed Sparky a blood-stained grin, the half-hispanic teen responding with a glare. "Hey, Sparky…"

" _Fuck_ , what is it?" Sparky drawled.

"Nothing. Just… Thanks."

"You're thanking me for letting you kill yourself," Sparky groaned. Sighing again, he jammed his helmet back on his head. "Ju… just go."

"Wait, you fought Hookwolf?"

"Motherfucker, _focus_!"

"Okay, okay." Greg turned back to face the wall Lung had been smashed through, well aware that Lung seemed to be taking his time getting back up. "How long did you say that Overburst thing would keep him down?"

Sparky clicked his tongue. "It's Overcharge Burst, brah, and I didn't. Never used it before. I told you I just made it up."

 _Wait, what?_ Greg blinked for a moment, before slowly turning his head to the side to glance at his friend. "Then, why did you s-"

The sound of shifting flesh and moving bone interrupted Greg, causing his jaw to snap shut. His eyes snapped to the wall again before shifting to a damaged van a few feet away from them and with a silent gesture, he motioned for Sparky to hide behind it.

Although confused, Sparky hunched behind the van and Greg joined him.

Lifting his visor, he flashed his friend a confused glance. "What's up?"

Greg shushed him, a finger to his own lips, before replying under his breath. "Lung's gonna get up soon. I heard him healing."

"I didn't hear anyth-."

A loud, guttural roar interrupted Sparky, making the young cape jump slightly. He glanced back at Greg, eyes wide with shock.

"Yeah, _you_ didn't hear anything." Greg did his best not to look smug even as a slightly feral grin began to grow on his face. "It's go time."

Lung was awake, after all.

The beast-like roar was accompanied by the rush of exploding flames, both of their eyes widening as a plume of flames burst from the wall Lung had been flung through.

"Wow, he sounds _maaaad._ Either that or hungry for some Filet Mig-Greg _,_ " Sparky snarked quietly, eyes still wide.

Not even bothering to respond to the joke, Greg shifted his feet, getting ready to launch himself forward. "Okay, Sparks, here's the plan. You stay back, away from Lung. Stick to his back. I need you to spam that blast you did to take him down before."

"I can't do the big one," admitted Sparky, his breathing beginning to speed up. "That one takes a lot out of me, brah. I charged up on a power line right before I got to you and I'm already like three-quarters charged. I can spam a bunch of smaller ones, though."

"Good enough," Greg replied, nodding. "When Lung c-"

The rest of his words were cut off as a pillar of fire rent the building in two in a raw blast of heat, Lung bursting out of the building a moment later. The sound of flesh ripping was present again, more gruesome, slow and _wet_ than it had been the previous two times. Lung's humanoid body slammed into the ground with all the force of a small earthquake and he roared again, fire exploding all around him in a dome as he landed.

Right above the wide vents on Lung's back, Greg could spot tall spikes jutting from Lung's shoulder blades, growing before his eyes. Lung roared again, arching his back as he suddenly inhaled, the sound loud enough to be heard from several meters away.

Flames rushed from Lung's mouth in an blaze, searing the ground in front of him and turning the asphalt into a soft, bubbling mess. Both Greg and Sparky nearly jumped, the flames passing just over their heads in a wave of heat.

Lung bellowed again, hands reaching behind him to claw, scrape and tear at his back with his massive claws. Greg's ears caught the sound of flesh tearing again and his eyes widened. _No._

Almost as if exploding outwards from his own skin, Lung's scales burst outwards, flaring out from his skin as Lung gained another two feet in height, his muscular body bulking up as well. In a spray of blood and gore and the wet sound of skin ripping apart, _they_ burst from his back. Blood-red, spiked, and far wider than he was tall, they jutted out from behind his shoulder blades and touched both ends of the street, a symbol of what made the Dragon of Brockton Bay so feared.

"Wings. He's got wings again," Greg muttered to himself.

"Final form Lung," was Sparky's contribution.

As if on cue, a corona of flames burst around Lung as he let out another angry roar, wreathing his body with fire.

Turning to face his friend, Greg nudged him in the shoulder. "You okay?"

"Not really," Sparky responded breathily, still wheezing slightly.

"Remember the plan?"

Sparky let out a nervous chuckle under his breath. "Not really."

Greg grimaced slightly. "You… ready?"

Sparky closed his visor and turned to face his best friend, fist held out. "Ready to die? No. Ready to kick dragon ass? No doubt."

Flashing Sparky a dirty grin, Greg met his fist. "Let's do this."

"Got your back, G."

"Thanks." Greg nodded, still grinning as he began to psyche himself up for another round. "Sparky, there's one thing I need you not to do."

"What?"

"Don't freak out."

"Huuuuuuuuuuuuuh?"

Sparky's eyes widened, his voice beginning to crack as he watched Greg's hands tear into the roof of the van they were hiding behind like a knife through butter. With a slight grunt of effort, Greg lifted the van over his shoulders, the sound and sight catching Lung's attention immediately.

The villain roared and charged forward immediately, his massive steps shaking the ground. **"HYOU!"**

"Hey, Dragon Tales. CATCH!"

Screaming at the top of his lungs, Greg Veder hurled a minivan directly into Lung's skull.

* * *

 _A/N: The last chapter of Book 1 will be the_ _ **2-24.**_ _Ironically enough, it may actually be out on the 24th as well. I say_ _ **may,**_ _because you all know that I'm shit with deadlines. I thought I'd be 100% done with this fic in two years time, after all. It's been a long time writing this, honestly. Anyway, next chapter will be the end of Book 1, most likely. Unless something seriously insane inspires me to add something on, I already have the perfect ending._


	69. Complications 2-24

Complications 2.24

* * *

Previously:

 _With a slight grunt of effort, Greg lifted the van over his head, the sound and sight catching Lung's attention immediately._

 _The villain roared and charged forward immediately, his massive steps shaking the ground. **"HYOU!"**_

 _"Hey, Dragon Tales. CATCH!"_

 _Screaming at the top of his lungs, Greg Veder hurled a minivan directly into Lung's skull._

* * *

"Why did I… ugh. Why did I get up today?"

Nerves flared with vague sensations, warning his body that he was wasting energy faster than he could restore it.

Sparky ignored the feeling, gaze flickering between his hands and the explosively violent parahuman brawl just down the street from where he stood. Lung towered over the pavement, standing basically sixteen feet tall from what Sparky could tell, with a body like a double wide and wings that were each about as wide as he was tall.

The remnants of a tattered minivan hung from the villain's long curved horns, already falling apart as his flame aura began to turn it into molten steel. "I agreed to help fight _that_ ," Sparky said with a shudder. "Mom definitely dropped me on my head."

Sparky's eyes widened as he instinctively moved several feet to his left. Time shuddered forward, his perception moving shakily as he turned his head to face where he had just been standing.

The same place that was now engulfed in flames.

Courtesy of Lung.

"Fuck this. Fuck this so hard. I just wanted powers, so I could get free stuff. Is that too much to ask?" Teeth clenched, Sparky aimed both his fists towards Lung. Once more, he held his breath as electricity began to visibly spark around the metal knuckles of his fingerless motorcycle gloves, the air beginning to hum around him as he visualized what he wanted.

"I could have stayed in, played some video games, relaxed my ass off," he continued his muttered ranting, his helmet muffling any real sound he was making. "But _noooo_ , I had to get all hyper about kicking ass. And, I lost my stick thingy."

Losing his "magic wand" when Hookwolf had tried to turn him into a snack had been annoying as hell but these gloves were almost as good. While it was a lot less accurate than the rod he had been carrying around for the last week, it let him use both hands.

"Whose ass got kicked, Sparky?" he grumbled, "It sure as fuck wasn't SteelNazi McWolfFace who got all fucked up."

Shoving down the annoyance he felt, Sparky returned his focus to molding the energy in his fists. Arcs of electricity surged to life around his hands, almost singeing the tough cloth of his gloves but not quite. "One. More. _Time…"_

The electricity surged again, the arcs themselves now as thick as his fingers. "Fuck… yeah."

With a grunt, Sparky let go, his fingers relaxing slightly.

His fists lit up in a flash of blue-and-white light, the arcs coalescing into a single stream for an instant. In a burst of energy, the air screamed as a barrage of electrical blasts leapt from Sparky's outstretched hands.

The flurry of lightning, more powerful and far larger than Sparky expected, struck Lung at the base of his spine, forcing him to let out a pained roar as he reared his head back, his body twitching as his muscles locked up. Greg, laughing like a crazy person, capitalized on the opening and leapt into the air.

His fist glowing, Greg slammed it into Lung's open chest with a sound like thunder, letting out an excited cackle as he pushed his advantage even further.

Chest heaving, Sparky paused for a moment to catch his breath as his body began to feel the drain. _That's it. I'm tapped out. Barely got enough for like a tenth of that._

Raising his visor, Sparky fell to his knees and let out wheezing breaths, his chest tightening as his body began to go through what he had begun to term "electricity withdrawal."

Pulling off his gloves, he wiped sweaty palms on the sides off his motorcycle jacket, his eyes trailing down his outfit, noting the brand name emblazoned all over his blue-and-white ensemble.

"Whoever the f-f-fuck Ducati is, they b-b-better fucking endorse m-m-me, I swear to G-god..."

* * *

\- o - o- o – o – o – o – o -

* * *

Greg shook his head roughly as he landed back on the ground, his fists stinging slightly after the punishing combo he had delivered to his opponent's torso. He flashed Lung a tight grin, the expression forced as he could already hear the cracking sounds of Lung's ribs as they knit themselves back together. _Fuck this, let's make him angry again! At least it'll knock him off his focus._

"Hey Lung, you know you've gotten _real_ big but I can't help but feel like something's missing here.," Greg mused aloud, a wide smile on his face. He dodged backwards, leaping over Lung's flame-covered hands, barely even feeling the heat that brushed past his face. "Does _it_ shrink when you transform or..."

Greg's smile added a rather off-kilter cockiness to the crazed excitement on his face as he ducked to avoid a flame bomb. "Are you angry all the time because you were born without a dick?"

The flames around Lung instantly stoked themselves into an inferno, the corona becoming more of a bodysuit of flames as Lung bellowed his rage. More of a fire demon than a dragon now, Lung flung himself forward blindly.

Taking Lung's furious lunge as an answer in the positive, Greg leaned back, avoiding a flaming haymaker and continued, "No joke, Big Red. There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone's perfect in their own special wa- _HAHAHAHA!"_ Greg slammed his elbow into Lung's overextended arm, smirking darkly at the cracking sound he could hear.

"Sorry, bud, I can't even say it with a straight face." Greg snorted, laughing wildly as he leapt over Lung's fist again. "Where's your dick, man? Does it slide back into you when you stand up, like a dog? Does it shrink in the heat? Hell, where's your balls, man?"

"Or, is it just really true what they say about Asian guys?" Greg laughter reached a new pitch as he slid around Lungs angry fists, not even bothering to avoid the waves of fire he threw at him even as they pushed him back somewhat. "These are the real que-"

Lung's second meaty fist struck Greg's side moments after he avoided the first one, the villain's reptilian limbs displaying that odd flexibility again. The sheer power of the the grazing strike sent him flying into and _through_ a building with a sound like a thunder and a shockwave of force.

Brick and plaster shattered and crumbled to dust as Greg plowed through several walls before finally coming to a slow, painful stop.

Greg let out a pained, choking gasp as he tried to get his bearings, finding himself inside one of the decrepit buildings that filled this part of the Commercial District. _Insulting his penis, or lack of. That was stupid._

 _Funny. So funny, but stupid._ He scrambled to his feet, trying his best to ignore the agonizing pain in his torso and spine. _So stupid._

Red brick dust caked all over him, Greg reached out for something to steady himself as he struggled to breath and felt his hand enclose around a sturdy banister. "...fu-"

A massive red fist slammed through the building, barely avoiding Greg's trembling form. Blood pumping inside his ears like a drum, Greg dived to the right, the banister tearing apart in his grip as he threw himself headfirst into a pile of brick dust and rotten wood scraps. Lung's flaming limb dragged itself through the wall, thrashing as it hunted for him.

Iron banister still in hand, Greg rushed towards Lung's arm. Dashing forward in a surge of speed, he gripped the long, jagged remains of the banister in both hands, the metal already shining as golden energy ran through it.

Lung's arm surged forward, moving like a snake.

Without thinking, Greg _swung._

Eyes wide, Greg let go of the meter-long piece of metal embedded in the middle of Lung's forearm, steaming blood spurting from the wound.

Lung screamed, his arm thrashing and tearing the building apart with force and fire. All this, even as his healing worked at the wound, scarlet flesh already bubbling.

"What are you crying for, you giant baby? It's like a splinter," Greg mocked.

It was a bit more than that and Greg knew it. The three-foot long spear of metal had pierced through Lung's scales with little more than a token resistance, only slowing down as it jammed into Lung's elbow joint.

His golden aura once again covering his entire body, Greg leapt up Lung's already healing arm and slammed through the brick wall separating them.

Arms raised over his head, Greg slammed them into Lung's face before using Lung's snout to jump onto the roof of the now-crumbling building.

Lung's other hand lunged for him, forcing Greg to whip to the side. His fist lashed out with a furious haymaker, the sound of broken bone accompanying the shining impact. Lung's fury was a near physical aura at this point, the intensity nearly as powerful as his flames as he clawed at Greg with damaged arms, bellowing about something in his gravelly, demonic voice.

Teeth bared in a wide grin, Greg roared his challenge back. A moment later, he launched himself at the villain's face. A hand the size of a small child slapped him away, once again sending him flying.

Greg slammed into the street below, body digging into the relatively untouched asphalt and creating a crater around him. "... _owwww."_

His head rang from the sudden strike, the errant movement by Lung just happening to strike him in the face. Rattled and somewhat dizzy, Greg raised a hand to his forehead. _Oh, that's not good._

As his palm came away red and sticky, Greg bit back a frustrated groan. Another wound to add to his collection of slowly-healing injuries, apparently. For all that Greg was enjoying this, it didn't seem like Lung was weakening all that much.

" **RRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAARGH!"**

Case in point.

Greg jumped to his feet as Lung burst through a building on the other end of the street, fully healed and roaring mad. _So, the same as he always is. Crap on a cracker._

"C'mon, hand blasts." The words came out with another strangled laugh as Greg dropped his hands to the sides of his waist, the golden glow bursting to life as he forced energy into his palms. "Work f-for me," he muttered, arms already tingling. A moment later, the glow fizzled out into almost nothing, the explosive energy bomb he had called upon earlier refusing to work. "MOTHERFUCK!"

Greg shouted his frustrations, stomping a new hole into the asphalt below him as his angry shouting died down into tired laughter. "Fuck this I'll just hit him harder! That's a smart plan, right? That's gonna work _this time,_ right?" _You know what they say it about the definition of insanity. If it works, it's not crazy!_

"Hey, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Asshole!" Greg defiantly ran towards the charging villain, continuing to flood energy to his fists despite feeling the drain on his existing reserves. Throwing caution to the wind, Greg thrust his fist out, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Eat this!"

Shining fist met massive spiked limb.

Agony raced up his arm as Lung met his crushing blow with his own giant fist, Greg's muscles screaming at him to relent as what felt like lava coursed through his veins. Shouting in surprise, Greg found himself skidding backwards, his body digging another small trench in the street. His arm was already bruising, a patchwork of purple appearing all over his forearm.

Even with this, Greg couldn't hold in in the laugh bubbling up in his throat as he jumped to his feet once more, pushing the pain in his arm to the back of his mind as he rushed towards Lung.

He dashed forward, forcing Lung to lash out at him, only to feint back and cackle as Lung's overextended lunge left his lower body open.

"God, you know I love doing this!" Greg shouted, letting out a frenzied burst of laughter as he drove a shining elbow into Lung's knee. "You hear that, Mushu? I'm having the time of my life right now!"

Lung slammed his fists into the ground, right where Greg had been a moment ago, too late to actually hit the kid as he dashed to Lung's side.

"I'm not even mad at you for trying to kill me when I was on the ground! Isn't that crazy? I just love these fights. Like, the one I had with Glory Girl. Oh my god, that girl can throw a punch. And, she's like super hot, too." Greg let out a high-pitched giggle at Lung's angry roar.

"No offense, big guy." Greg's fists became dual jackhammers, blurring as they battered into Lung's damaged knee. "You're hot too but you know… literally. Hahahahahahaha!"

Greg's laughter increased in intensity as Lung dropped to one knee, his other one already shattered, allowing Greg access to his upper body without having to jump.

"I mean, her fight was fun but you? Fighting you is kinda scary and that's a whole 'nother type of fun." Greg laughed again, the sound coming out far more hysterical than joyful as he slammed a fist into Lung's jaw. "Fights like these are _sooo_ intense! It's like playing a video game, yaknow? But, I'm actually _in_ the game and we both know the ending."

Lung snapped at Greg, the lower half of his jaw flailing weakly as Greg's fist slammed into it a second time. "I'm the big damn hero here. You're the big bad dragon man!" Red scales cracked and burst beneath his knuckles, splitting open to reveal weaker scarlet-tinted flesh.

"C'mon, Lung. Don't you know what my name means?" His fist slammed into Lung's jaw a third time in a flash of gold, cracking several blade-sized teeth and sending more flying from his maw in a shower of blood. Roaring, Lung jumped back, his wings snapping open to give him added distance.

Greg didn't waste any time in closing the distance again.

"Let me spell it out for you! It means I'm tougher!"

A blast of flame, jet-like in intensity burst from one of the holes on Lung's chest. Greg rushed through the blaze, screaming at the top of his lungs as he thrust a fist into the warm, vent-like opening. With an angry roar, he ripped the growth from Lung's chest, showering himself in steaming blood.

"Faster!"

Bellowing in pain, Lung grabbed at him, claws poised to tear him to pieces. Rather than dodge it, Greg simply leaned out of the way. Without missing a beat, he thrust a glowing palm into the side of Lung's wrist, golden energy enhancing the strike and knocking the over-extended villain off-balance.

"STRONGER!"

Linking his fists together, Greg slammed the hammerfist into Lung's knee to the cracking sound of bone shattering to pieces.

"My name is Greg Veder and I'm _literally_ Superior!"

He spun, slamming the same double fist into the back of Lung's other knee.

"To you and the rest of your stupid worthless ABB!"

Greg did it again, and again and again until the villain finally toppled like a redwood, falling to the ground on both knees that were as stable as twigs. Angry, in pain, and at the end of his rope, Lung lashed out, his flaming aura exploding outward with the force of a large bomb. Right beneath Lung, the force of the blast caught Greg unawares, sending him flying like a leaf in a tornado.

Even as he hit the asphalt several meters away with tremendous force, Greg pulled himself from the rubble and shouted at the top of his lungs. "SURGE, HIT HIM!"

Greg's scream rang out, echoing against the empty street and was met with an answer.

A burst of blue lit up the air again, followed by the sound of thunder. Lung reared back again as a small bolt of lightning crashed into his torso, his explosion petering out as his muscles locked up, his limbs once again twitching without his control.

Greg roared, charging forward as he held one fist up.

The same fist began to shine, golden light streaming from it as he charged it with as much energy as he possibly could.

 _Come on. Come on. Everything I have left!_ Fire burst around his clenched fist, traveling up his forearm, the orange mixing with the gold to form the color of a bright sunset. Greg paid it no mind, the pain in his body already enough a distraction as he focused on Lung's twitching form.

"Why don't you do me and the rest of this goddamn city a giant favor, Lung?" Greg shouted, "Do everyone a giant favor and JUST!"

The dragon-man's healing factor burst to life, fighting off the electrical blast that sent him and his body into a fugue state.

His eyes met Greg's and he roared.

"STAY!" Greg roared back.

In a rush of limbs and fire, the dragon lunged.

" **DOWN!** " Greg swung his fist with all his strength. The air whistled.

Greg's bones screamed as he met Lung's breast-bone with his fist, the crack loud enough to be HEARD.

He screamed.

Lung screamed.

The air screamed.

Everything went white for an instant as raw power rushed out from Greg's clenched, bleeding fist. Like the fist of an angry god, an eruption of light, sound and fire exploded _through_ Lung's body, utterly pulverizing everything it passed through.

Greg stepped back, eyes tired and body drained to the last.

His jaw dropped once again, as he stared at Lung.

The villain's eyes, once filled with rage and literal fire, began to dim as he glanced down at his chest, or what was left of it. The villain raised his draconic head slowly to stare at Greg and, like the unyielding colossus he was, Lung took a step forward.

From where he stood, Greg couldn't believe it. The blast had torn through half Lung's body, somehow missing his head, and it wasn't enough to take the villain down. Everything on the right side of his body was gone, the mass utterly obliterated. Yet, he could still move.

Probably still fight too.

 _This… this just wasn't fair._ Hell, it was insane.

 _It really is._ Greg found himself laughing silently, the sound nonexistent as he could barely draw breath to gasp, let alone chuckle. _What did I expect? This guy fought Lev-_

As if just registering the sudden loss of blood, an arm and _half his torso_ , Lung collapsed forward with a thunderous crash. For a moment, Greg held his breath as he watched Lung's massive body resting in a pool of his own, still-boiling blood.

Greg stared, bright blue eyes refusing to blink.

Lung didn't so much as twitch.

A moment later, Greg let himself fall to the floor, unable to help the tired, wheezing laughter that fell out as he lay there on the ruined street. Barely able to pick himself up, Greg just let himself laugh.

Relief.

Not anxiety, not fear, not stress.

Relief was all he felt as he lay flat on the ground, his tingling palms resting on the torn-up gravel. His shirt? Nothing more than a burnt rag hanging off a single shoulder. His jeans? Just ripped shorts. His boots? Melted into the asphalt and long gone. Wherever his jacket was, Greg couldn't really find it in him to care. "God, that was insane."

Sparky, suddenly by his side in a burst of blue, nodded. "I know. It was weird."

Greg laughed, wheezing slightly. "The whole thing was just… just crazy."

"Unbelievable… like," Sparky paused, letting out a short laugh before continuing, ''when did you have time to write a whole speech?"

Greg blinked, staring up at his friend from his position on the ground. "What? I'd… I didn't…

"Come on, brah. You might as well have said, 'Who the hell do you think I am?'" Above his bandana, Sparky's eyes rose as he shot Greg an unbelieving look. "The whole rest of that speech sounded like you copy-pasted from a Gurren Lagann episode that never aired."

"I…" Greg blinked, cringing as he let out a weak "...no."

"I'm Greg Veder, the Superior man with a plan and I love me some punches. Ain't my powers awesome?" Sparky replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Okay," Greg wheezed, "okay, okay, I get… your point."

"I mean, I couldn't even hear half of it over all the _fucking_ explosions," Sparky admitted with a shrug. "I mean, I was like a whole street away, but it was like watching a fucking boss fight."

"Boss fight?" Greg wheezed, a smile on his face. "What game?"

"Veder May Cry 3: Greg's Awakening," his friend snarked. "I mean, I wouldn't _buy_ a lame-ass game like that. I'd pirate it, though."

"The whole thing was either a game or a really bad anime, I think," Greg replied after a moment's silence, giggling slightly as he said it.

"What?" Sparky turned his head, the motorcycle helmet on his shoulders shaking slightly.

"I mean," Greg let out a shaky sigh, turning his head slightly to look at Sparky. "Think about it. We're two teenagers with superpowers who fought a bad guy from Japan who can turn into a dragon. If this isn't anime or game-worthy, what is?"

"That…" Sparky blinked. He groaned and spread his hands out wide, still frowning. "...makes some kind of sense."

"I know," Greg replied, still smiling.

"Don't get me wrong, it's still the dumbest shit I've ever heard, brah. how much blood did you lose?"

Greg blinked, still well aware of the sticky, warm feeling trailing down his forehead. "...enough."

"Enough?"

"Yeah. Still less than last time I fought Lung, though."

"That's not saying much," Sparky grumbled. Greg could almost hear the eye roll from his best friend as he said that.

Greg wheezed again, the sound coming out instead of a laugh. "...true." He opened his mouth to add something to his statement only to pause as he heard something. For a moment, his punch-drunk mind thought it was coming from Lung, only to realize that couldn't be possible for multiple reasons. _Since when does Lung have tires, you idiot?_

As tired as he was, Greg managed to push himself up on his arms, turning his head to face the end of the street. Sparky turned in the same direction Greg was facing, before pausing to glance down at his friend. "What is it?"

Greg frowned, shaking his head as he let out a tired groan. "Cavalry's here."

"The fuck is the cava-"

Before Sparky could finish, he was interrupted by the appearance of three flying figures, all dressed primarily in white. The taller figure floating in the lead moved forward, only to halt at the sight of Lung's massive form, currently missing a good portion of his body, and the destruction around him.

 _Photon Mom, Laserdream, and Shielder,_ Greg raised an eyebrow at their sudden appearance. _Didn't hear them coming._

The noise he did hear made itself known as several PRT trucks and one larger, white armored van skidded to a halt down the street a moment later. From the black trucks poured out a small army of PRT, armed to the teeth and covered in thick, black body armor emblazoned with PRT on their chest-plates.

The white van opened and members of the Protectorate – or most of it, at least – jumped out, a bruised and battered-looking Armsmaster in the lead with Miss Militia right behind him.

Before Greg could open his mouth to say anything, Sparky stood up and raised his visor, shooting all the gathered heroes a raised eyebrow. "Wow, you guys have the response time of a pizza delivery."

"Oh, yeah." The electric-using teenager jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Lung's direction, snarkily adding, "We took care of that _thing_ for ya. Our pleasure, really."

Greg couldn't help himself, the grin on his face turning into another bout of wheezing laughter even as he still lay on the floor. _At least it's finally over._

* * *

\- o - o- o – o – o – o – o -

* * *

" _This is Christine Slater reporting live from outside Brockton Bay Central Hospital."_

The television hanging on the wall blared the news, the ticker below the brunette reporter displaying "Breaking News".

" _There's a great deal of confusion out here in front of the hospital. It's been announced by police and PRT that there was an incident, some kind of Tinker-tech explosion inside the waiting room of Brockton Bay Central over the last hour. The person who set off the device, the bomber… I do not have their name but what we do know is the identity of the attacker. A fifty-eight year old Chinese woman was the one to set off the non-incendiary device."_

The field correspondent's hand went to her ear, as she listened to her earpiece for a few seconds before turning back to the camera.

" _I just received a report confirming that there was a fatality. While only one death has been reported, that of the bomber herself, it seems that the other victims, several dozen victims, have been reported to be in some sort of coma. Or, at least a coma-like state, including several nurses and multiple police officers. As the hospital was essentially on lockdo-_

The television exploded into several pieces and fell from the wall, it's individual parts burnt and charred as well as the wall behind it. At the other end of the room, Greg Veder sat on a hospital bed, fat tears dripping from blazing red eyes.

One hand gripped the railing of his hospital bed, mutilating it, while the other fist flickered with a fading golden light.

* * *

\- o - o- o – o – o – o – o -

* * *

 **End of Book One**

A/N: _That's the end for now. I feel satisfied with I have so far. All that's left is to start working on Book Two. The end of this chapter basically set the tone for Book Two, if you couldn't tell. Hope you enjoyed it, by the way. You have no idea how long I let this chapter just sit because I felt it wasn't perfect enough or that it didn't capture what I wanted to happen. I still feel like it doesn't but I'm just like "what are you gonna do to fix it?" And I'm also like "I dunno." So, yeah, End of Book One._


End file.
